A month ago, I wrote a column entitled “Siblings.”

At the time, my Uncle Jeff was dying of cancer. I wrote to pay tribute to him and all the siblings with whom we walk through life.

This is an excerpt from that column:

This was the two-year-old brother who noticed my mom’s head was stuck between the rails on her crib when she was an infant and went into the living room to tell his mother.

“Mama, baby,” he said. 

“Yes, Jeff, isn’t she pretty?” my grandmother replied. 

“Mama, baby,” he repeated, persisting until she realized something was amiss and went to check on my mom.

He was the hero that day.

Siblings. You can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them.

Until one day, you must. My uncle died August 16, four days before his birthday. He left as summer does, leaving shadows and loss.

His two sisters stood as sentries as he drew his last breath, watching over the brother that had once watched over them. 

The hero has fallen, his earthly duties fulfilled. 

Sixty-five-years ago, my grandparents were preparing for the birth of a son. It was a time of joy and expectation, a new beginning.

Today, my family is preparing that son’s grave. It is a time of sorrow and reflection.

Once again, the Eleventh Doctor from “Doctor Who” speaks the words that express our hearts best after the loss of another too soon: 

“Because [time] goes so fast. I’m not running away from things, I’m running to them before they flare and fade forever. It’s all right. Our lives won’t run the same. They can’t. One day, soon maybe, you’ll stop. I’ve known for a while.” 

“Then why do you keep coming back…?” Amy asked.

“Because you were the first. The first face this face saw. And you were seared onto my hearts…. You always will be. I’m running to you…before you fade from me.” 

So, I bid you, run. Run to your mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. Run to your friends from now or yesteryear, because time is fleeting and so are we.

Stacy Parent is a lifelong resident of Baytown.


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