|Shonner, oh, Shonner, Our
Shonner, We miss you so!
On this bright and mild February day in Ohio, your Grandpa is sitting in his chair in the living room, his shoulders, his whole being, stooped in grief. His sighs, deep and shuddering, are his tears. At almost 78, his heart is breaking like never before.
Your Gram is on a roller-coaster ride of emotions, and her eyes, too, are blue and blurred with tears.
San and Larry, your aunt and uncle, so like parents to you in their love and devotion, are black and blue with beating themselves up with "we should have done something, we could have done something..."
Jason has become a man overnight, the little brother who was so quiet, now shouldering the knowledge that he is the only son left to carry on in this world.
Your folks are so like little children, unsure of what to do, no template to guide them on this journey through a new chapter in their lives. They are numb with it all, as your friends and family descend on their home with outpourings of tears and comfort, food and hugs. No one knows what to do!
Wiggles knows something is wrong, and quietly goes from person to person, trying to give solace.
The last place you were, on the street near your earthly home, bears mute witness to your last hours. The place where your car sat is empty, dark with stains of antifreeze and oil.
You are gone, plucked from our arms into God's, and we know you are all right now, no more pain, there to welcome the rest of us as we come Home, each in our own time, to join you.
What your Granddad said to your Gram last night meant so much: "When those we love die, they take some of us with them." He's right, and you have part of our hearts with you, Shon Daniel.
From that first day we saw you, wrapped in swaddling clothes, you of the clear blue eyes, polite demeanor, and kind spirit, you were "our Shon."
You who loved to hunt and fish, to scuba dive and fly and dream of the girl who'd love you as you needed so desperately to love, you who gave each who ever knew you a reason to feel blessed to have known you, you who could never hurt anyone else, you were our Shon.
As a young fellow, you put a record on your grandparents stereo, and
whispered to me as you listened to the soft music: "Wobby
Winton, Aunt Loo!"
June first, 1974 -- February fifth, 2002.