Happy 21st

In 1989 my mom gave birth to a boy - Morgan Philip Dean. He was average weight (around 7 lbs) with big blue eyes and no hair. He was a chunky little thing and at 6 months he was almost as big as I was at 2 years.

Mom took us to get our portraits done (2 years/6 months) and a few days later Morgan had his accident.

I don't remember much about that time. I don't even remember him choking, even though I was in the same room. One minute I was under the bed eating a gummy bear and the next I was in my neighbor's arms while our other neighbor, a paramedic, tried to get the toy out of Morgan's throat (It was a Fisher Price Little People toy).

The next thing I remember is watching Disney movies at my friend Caleb's house while Morgan was in the hospital.

Then I remember being at the hospital and a nurse handing me a squeaky teddy bear in the room where they kept the siblings of kids who were in the hospital.

Then...nothing.

I didn't go to the funeral.

I don't remember seeing his grave, although I apparently asked for weeks where Morgan was, so my parents finally took me to the grave site, and after that I didn't talk about him any more.

I am grateful that my mother was so camera-crazy. We have videos of him and me, pictures of him and me, and we still have some of his stuffed animals/baby clothes (for when I have a little boy).

It's always harder this time of year because I think, "How close would we have been? Would he be here? Would we spend a lot of time together? What would he look like? What would he sound like?"

Mom thinks he was an angel. He definitely saved some lives. Morgan's death ended with our two neighbors (almost divorced drug addicts) accepting Christ and they've been clean and together ever since. That instance is what caused me to accept Christ years later - Christ sacrificed HIS son to save me? I could definitely see the pain He must have felt.

So in a way, his death brought glory to God, who knows how to bring good out of bad.

That still doesn't take the pain away, and I don't think it ever will.

If Morgan had lived, I rather doubt my parents would have had any more kids. We certainly wouldn't have had Adrianna. But I think Morgan would have understood me better. We were close, even as little kids. We played together, I pretended to read to him, and I acted out stories for him (one of which was Bambi, which we have on video, and I acted out a scene where Bambi said "sh!t", and then the camera shakes because mom is giggling - pretty sure I learned that one from grandma), and I loved him. I loved him so much.

I miss him every year, more so as the years go by.

I'm glad I have three other siblings...but I'll always miss the little guy who wore the Kansas Jayhawks cap and had a fuzzy teddy bear to sleep with. His gorgeous eyes, his big grin, and his always-happy, chubby-cheeked face.

Today I'm going out to a pub and ordering a drink for Morgan, because if he were here, I'd treat him out to drinks.

At least we have eternity in heaven to catch up.