In yesterday’s post, guest blogger Scott Newport told of time spent with a hunting buddy in Kentucky. Today he explains that he and his buddy are more than ordinary friends because they are fathers of terminally ill children.

If the Walls Could Talk, Part 2

After the Hunt

After the hunt, I returned back to my in-laws’ old family farm that has been passed down through the generations. We were visiting over spring break. I pulled up a lawn chair, next to a fire built by my father-in-law. Watching the fire, I couldn’t help but rekindle the memory of that old log building on that hill and all the history behind it.

Easter Celebration

As I kept the fire going, the rest of the kin were getting ready for a big Sunday get together for Easter. I think we had close to 40 visitors that day. My buddy had brought over his big smoker the day before and a pig roasted on it. The women gathered on the porch, giggling and stuffing plastic eggs full of candy and small toys for an egg hunt after dinner. The children were all playing tag and throwing a ball in the yard that must be at least five acres. The yard is surrounded by 80 acres of rich farm land and a few small pockets of woods. My son, Evan, although not able to play like the others, sat so content on a gray metal cooler full of ice and drinks. His feet dangled, nowhere near the ground. I know he was in his glory just to be outside. His sparsely spaced teeth couldn’t hide his smile full of life. His unusually wide-spaced eyes and protruding tubes that can’t be hidden were no match that day for any sadness some may have for him.

As the evening came to an end, and the last set of headlights made its way down the long, gravel driveway, I couldn’t help but wonder. Could it be some day, long from now, the walls of the old family farmhouse will tell stories of this special day? Maybe it will tell of the morning hunt, or maybe the kids playing tag and searching for Easter eggs.  But I hope it will tell the story of just some plain and not so plain folks getting together to share life.

The Family Legacy

Falling off to sleep I thought of the legacy of this old farm house which has only three rooms. I cried a bit as I thought of Evan and Lindsey and how we were not able to leave them a legacy. But I quickly smiled and then sighed when I pictured Evan on that old metal cooler.

As I dreamed that evening, I could imagine a family sitting on and around the country porch just outside the bedroom window and singing on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe the gospel tune, Give Me that Ol’ Time Religion. Remember what it says at the end of each verse? “It’s good enough for me.” I also like the part that lets us have peace. “Give me that Ol’ time religion, It will do when I am dying.”

If these walls could talk, surely they’d have a legacy to leave to anyone who would listen. I know we all, as parents, want to leave a legacy to our children. But maybe in some cases, it’s okay for our children to leave a legacy for us. Like Lindsey. Like Evan.

Scott (Evans dad)

Epilogue

Scott adds this epilogue to explain what the piece means to him: The cabin, which Dave had visited many times before, was a symbol of him visiting his daughter’s death. The bird is a reminder that my friend has taken me under his wing and to show me that death may not be all that sad. The memories at the old cabin symbolized the memories of his daughter. I think my friend wanted to show me the cabin as a way to prepare me for Evan’s death. I think he wanted me to know that I don’t have to walk alone. Just a thought.

Evan’s Legacy

When the story was written, Scott’s son, Evan, was still living. He died the day after Thanksgiving in 2009 at age 7. Since then Scott continues to share the legacy of lessons learned during his son’s short, rich stay on earth. If you received a legacy from Evan while reading the story, join us in honoring his memory by leaving a comment below.

Part One

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