Even Once

Irvin was always into something and never tired of finding new ways of making trouble. He and his mother (my sister) plus his six other siblings had come to stay with me and my family at a time when my sister needed help. Irvin was just old enough to get into everything and not quite old enough to know better. My sister was bed-ridden for a couple of months and the time went by very slowly as I tried to cope with the extra people in my home while dealing with my own children. Irvin, I thought, didn't help.

My grandfather had a brother named Irvin. My nephew was named for him. Uncle Irvin was a tall, lean, refined man with strong features. He trained as an organist and was headed for greatness in that field when the first world war began. He enlisted and died in a swimming accident. Irvin, my nephew, was a short, pudgy, mamma's boy with no chin. His mother loved him without reservation though, covering all his failings with an excuse and making up for all of his inadequacies with her own good sense. I, on the other hand, had no patience with my nephew. Whether it was dumping things in the kitchen, clipping flower heads, or chasing little girls with a stick, I just couldn't seem to figure out what made Irvin tick. On one hand, he was so sensitive that if you looked at him wrong he would cry, but on the other hand when it came to destruction of personal property, no one could do it faster than Irvin. When it came to doing school work, Irvin's mother was a pushover. All Irvin had to do was to say that he was tired of doing it and she would let him be done. I, unlike my sister, would insist that he finish what he started, no matter how much he wailed.

As Irvin grew, he seemed to mellow out a bit. He still loved to carry sticks that were made to look like swords, but he stopped trying to chase the girls with them. Instead of destroying things, he began to focus his life on the military career that he planned to accomplish when he grew up. He thought constantly about being in the armed forces, especially the Air Force. He always wore an old leather jacket that had a map printed on the lining where he could plan his strategies when playing war games. War games were the only games he played, but Irvin was anything but violent. Still extremely sensitive, he didn't want to hurt anyone. I think he just wanted to be able to wear the uniform. But it was clear that whatever he ended up doing, even if it meant carrying a 'big stick' he would do it softly.

One day, a few years after they had moved back to their own home, Irvin and his family came to visit us. He brought a bunch of toys with him and we all thought that he just brought them to play with. In his quiet, unassuming way, after determining which toy each child liked best, Irvin began passing out all of his toys to my children. He even gave away his leather jacket. His mother and I began talking and wondering whether or not we ought to stop him because it seemed rather an odd thing to do. However, we were both used to Irvin doing odd things so we agreed to let him do what he wished with his own possessions. We were both touched by his generosity, but we passed it off as just another quirk in his personality.

Just a few days later, I received a call from the hospital. Irvin was in a diabetic coma and was on life support. No one knew he had diabetes. He died the same day. But nearly ten years later, that little boy is still very much a part of my life. I cannot forget how much he loved his mother nor how impatient and stern I was with him. His kindness and generosity at the end of his life will be with me forever.

I cannot go back to the days when Irvin was in my home, nor make up for lost time and my lack of understanding, but I can take time today to make someone else's life a little better. I can give some of that understanding to my own and other's children when they make mistakes. Children won't always be children, but they will always need kindness. What would it hurt if instead of becoming angry with a child for ruining your things, you simply took them in your arms and told them how much you loved them, whispered to them that, we all make mistakes, and then helped them clean up the mess. I wish now that I had done that, even once, with Irvin.