Posts Tagged ‘brother’

David always stuck up for me.  Always.  When I was in first grade, David was in fifth grade.  One morning we were got to school an as we walked across the playground, a big kid yelled at me to get out of his way then he threw the baseball at my head, knocking me down to the ground.  David made sure I was okay and he got me to the office then he went and beat the kid up.  He didn’t care that the kid was a lot bigger than him.  He just beat him up for hurting his little sister. 

The following year we went to a different school.  I was the only one in the class that was new to the second grade group and they didn’t like me.  David was in sixth grade and was on the school Safety Patrol.  One day, he was near my building when I was out at recess.  I was on the spinning thing they called a merry-go-round and I was losing my grip.  I yelled for them to stop so I could get off but they laughed at me and went faster and faster.  I fell off and no one would stop it or slow down.   They were kicking me in the face and I was crying.  My mouth filled with dirt and tan bark.  All of the sudden David was there, blowing his Safety Patrol whistle and yelling at the kids to stop.  He pulled me out and got me to the Nurse’s Office and stayed with me until I got cleaned up.  When I got back to class, I found out that David had gotten the kids in trouble for not stopping when I was down under everyone’s feet.

Throughout our time in school, at least once a month David would come home with a torn shirt because he had been in a fight, sticking up for us, his little sisters.  He even got in a fight sticking up for our other brother that was two years older than David.  David was fierce when it came to protecting and defending his brothers and sisters.

I miss David.  I need David.  Sometimes I go to the cemetery and talk to him.   I took my kids with me to introduce them to David when they were babies.  Now I sit and tell him about what is going on with me and with my kids.  I ask him for help and advice.  Sometimes I cry, sitting there telling him how I miss him and how I wish he were here to help me and defend me.  I ask him to help me make decisions.  I know he hears me.

When we buried David more than 25 years ago, there was a tiny little pine tree next to his grave.  That tree is now huge and nine times out of ten, when I go to see David, after I’m all done talking to him and asking him to help me, a single pine cone drops from the tree and lands right next to me, even when there is no wind or breeze at all.  It makes me smile and although no one else seems to think so,  I know it’s David letting me know that  he’s there with me, listening, and getting ready to go slug it out for me!


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