My beautiful nephew and Godson, Donovan Greg Bayley, chose to leave us three years ago. I know that grief is noble and knows its own bounds; Ill not cry forever. But still, its too soon to expect the many layers of lifes laughter to cover the pain of loss entirely. It sneaks up on you; finds a gap in your joy, through a song, a picture, a fleeting memory. You were the small boy who never had to be taught to share - it was part of your spirit. You were the young man who took a week off work to stay, day and night, in ICU with Maa when she was going. You were the delight who arrived at my door, often and with that exceptional smile, holding out a gift . . . cupcakes, one of your paintings, a bag of goods for a facial. You made so many people feel special; it was a gift you arrived with in that splendid New Year of 1986. You left while I wasnt looking . . . gifted, generous, beautiful you, gone. The hole in my soul is a Donovan-shaped hole. Dont rest in peace, my Boy. Wherever you are, teach them how to dance . . . teach them what love is.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Sep 2014 17:22:02 +0000
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