In the About Me graph of this blog, it is mentioned that the seed that grew within me to attempt writing a novel was planted in childhood by a slightly older cousin. Blessed with intellect and maturity beyond his years, he was at that early age endeavoring to pen a sequel to L. Frank Baum’s Oz series. I know not what became of that effort. Such a project would never have crossed my mind even by the time I completed the three more years of life experience he had on me. Yet, he made it sound fun, exciting, and most importantly, doable.
That Rich dealt with the ravages of polio in his earliest years and was left with a slight limp and some muscular diminishment probably had something to do with his finding a niche in scholarship as opposed to boyish mischief or athletic pursuits. Truly a superior student with academic honors in his wake and innumerable possibilities in his future, my cousin chose a ministerial path. It is a blessing that he chose to journey through existence next to his Lord, for life would unfold into greater challenges.
After he married, Rich’s wife, Susan, would bear two daughters. The second child would have neurological problems at birth that would leave her intellectually and physically challenged for the rest of her life. She would need a constant caregiver. As it later turned out, Susan, who suffers from significant bipolar impairment and later became reliant on a wheelchair as a result of an automobile accident, would require substantial care, as well. Yet, the smallish and frail guy who had battled polio as a child proved equal to the task and more. Even in the face of burdens and obstacles, the elder daughter, Genevieve, was raised, educated, married, and now provides nursing care to those in need.
When I completed my novel, cognizance ran deep that By the Light would not exist had it not been for Rich. Consequently, I obtained his e-mail address and sent a message to let him know that I appreciated his provision of its genesis. It also expressed my hope that he would read the story and, since I valued his opinion, that he might comment on it. I never got a response and assumed either that he never got my message or that he simply had a lot on his plate.
I was shocked and pained to receive a call from my mom in Louisiana two days ago. She called to tell me that Rich and his challenged daughter, Sophia, had died in a house fire in Virginia. In our conversation she told me that my aunt had intimated that Rich had at some point mentioned my e-mail message. He'd told her that he was flattered that I’d thought of him and that I valued his opinion.
Rich had made his last visit to our hometown of Baton Rouge a while back, and my mom told me how wonderful he was with Sophia, by then an adult. More important than the thoughts I conveyed to him about my writing and his inspiration of it, I shared mom’s observation of what a good caregiver he was. She would know. My younger sister suffered encephalitis at 14 months of age and lived for almost 38 more years in a persistent vegetative state under Mom’s loving home care. I knew that, given the source, he would recognize her comment as high and knowledgeable praise indeed.
If I’m able to find an agent to represent me and actually get my novel sold and published, what a ride it will be. Rich will be with me in spirit for every inch of it, just as he always will be whenever I sit down to write.
I know, too, that his spirit will live on in the hearts of Susan and Genevieve, as well as in the hearts of his mom, Be Be to me, and his sister, Diane. May God bless them in this time of sorrow.
