Ward’s Eighth Birthday

Came and went. It was another spectacularly beautiful day at the park. Friends and family came and shared cookies and brownies and candy at the park pavilion while kids played on the equipment. We released balloons with a big, “Happy Birthday Ward!” and watched them float away.

Rainbow had a blast at the park. It’s his favorite outside place, no doubt. I feel extraordinarily fortunate to have this playground in honor of little Wardie. I’m happy it exists, and I’m proud that it has his name on it and a likeness of him in it.

I wonder often what his relationship with his big angelic brother will be. What will his understanding of Ward be? Will he get tired of hearing about him? Will he feel special that he has an angel brother to look after him?

Daddy J walked in on him kissing Ward’s framed photo the other day, which was super sweet. And a couple of days ago, I got up at 3:00 or 4:00 to change his diaper and was rocking him. He kept pointing straight up (not at the light fixture and not at the mobile) and talking gobbledy-gook: DAT!! DAT!! DAT!! Dassemblockinflackerbaaa!! DAT!! while twisting both his hands, like he was screwing in two light bulbs. He was all fired up.

So, I don’t know if he’s seeing Ward or if I’m just hoping for it. I wondered if he was twisting his hands to look like flapping wings, which isn’t normally how I picture Wardie, but maybe that’s how he was showing himself to little Rainbow.

It makes me smile to think of Rainbow being aware of Ward loving him and being near.

I think I will choose to believe that.

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3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Suzanne
    Nov 15, 2010 @ 03:44:57

    Wonderful pictures. Rainbow is just adorable, and looks like such a sweet boy. I’m sure Ward and Rainbow are great friends.
    When my uncle (who is now in his seventies) was a little boy in New York City he was riding a streetcar and lost his balance and fell from the open side. He was about to hit the pavement when he said he was instead lowered gently to the ground, and didn’t get a scratch. He always insisted that it was his uncle that kept him from falling. His mother’s brother was only 19 when he was killed in WWI, and had never met my uncle, but he insists this happened. To make the story even stranger, my grandmother woke up from a nap at home at the same moment this happened and said, “Oh, no, something is happening to Peter!” to my mother, who was only eight or nine at the time.

  2. Mama Jamz
    Nov 15, 2010 @ 23:03:32

    Love that, Suzanne. Love it. Those little mysteries mean so much. I bet it’s pretty fun to be a guardian angel, don’t you?

  3. Trackback: ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump… « love, loss, and rainbows

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