No parent should ever have to bury or say goodbye to their child ...
We did exactly that. Two years ago, in fact. Two years ago today, so today, we are feeling sad as we remember our beautiful son, who would have been eight years old had he lived.
Our son, Kelvin Deonte', was born with special needs, among them cerebral palsy resulting from brain damage, vision impairments, and weighing under one pound at birth: he weighed less than a stick of butter. He was so tiny!
In addition to the CP, Kelvin had epilepsy, gastric reflux disease, and spasticity of all four limbs. He required care up to 24 hours a day: he could not walk, dress or feed himself, or even take care of his personal needs; we had to do it for him.
And it was hard. Very hard. Oftentimes, we fought with each other as we discussed the possible options of having Kelvin placed into a home for severely handicapped children. My wife was for it; I was against it. I guess I could see her point: I worked as a janitor and Jana stayed home with our son, where she tended to his every need.
When he was old enough to start school, it got a little easier, for Jana was finally able to relax and tend to the household chores. She was even able to go out and run errands and go out for lunch with her girlfriends. That helped so much; it took a lot off her mind. Yet by four in the afternoon, Jana had to be back, so she could be on time to meet up with the school bus, who returned our son home.
Kelvin enjoyed school. He enjoyed being with other children his age and he had a whole host of friends who loved him almost as much as we did. He got to go on field trips and interact with other people (grownups as well as kids). His world flourished and we couldn't have been happier for him.
Kelvin went to church evey week. The pastors and congregation adored him. He loved them right back. Even as handicapped as he was, Kelvin knew how to love and give it to others. He had a Christlike spirit about him and loved the singing and preaching. He did not know how to hate or bring disappointment to others and he enjoyed life to the fullest.
Then Kelvin got sick. He ended up in the hospital. Another case of pneumonia. He ended up in the ICU. No matter how hard they tried, doctors and nurses couldn't save our son: his lungs were too weakened to handle yet another bout with sickness. He mercifully died two days later.
He was only six.
Three days later, on October 21, 2009, we buried him. His body rests in a grave at Promised Land Cemetary not far from our house and we visit his grave several days a week, where we tend to his gravesite and talk to him.
Kelvin now runs, shouts for joy, and enjoys a full healing. He is with Jesus Christ. He is having a ball Up There, but as for us here on earth, we weep as we remember the little boy that he was. We will never forget our special son and would do anything to bring him back, even though we know that is impossible. It was his time to go and we have to learn to accept that and somehow move on.
So on that note, happy birthday, son. We love you and miss you very much. We will never forget you; it is because of you that we have learned to appreciate you and all people who are disabled. You have given us new eyes and to enjoy the gifts that you have given to us. For that we say thank you.
