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By Dee Taylor Dedicated to my Grandson David and his Mother Danice When death steals a daughter a mother's heart forever cries, "Why did my little girl have to die?" But with two little boys, one in my arms and one at my knee clinging tightly to me, the oldest asking with simplicity, "Grandma, why did mommy leave me?" It changed the picture dramatically and her big little man I begin to see. A visit from an angel soothed his soul, and as he smiled and laid his little head down, somehow I knew in my heart that he wore a crown. So I rocked him till I laid him in bed that night, and then if by magic his little spirit was filled with God's holy power and might. Her big little man was he. As he turned in his chair looking up at me, his questions about his mommy were full of curiosity. "Grandma, what does mommy eat now and how does mommy wash her hair in heaven?" He had no experience you see. A simple answer from God's great book is all it took and he would scamper off to play by the brook. Her big little man was he. Five years old and off to kindergarten we did go. An emotional day we knew it would be with his mother's presence heavy between we three. His little hand held tightly in mine, so small he seemed to me. Anticipating his first big adventure without his mommy that day, tears running down my cheeks and as angels encircled me, I began to pray. Then I heard God's majestic voice say, "Nanny, trust me he is mine. He must begin his own journey in time. My son's footsteps will lead and he will find guidepost signs along the way." Her big little man was he. Out of grief and full of anger his dad's heart was hell bent. With his patience's well spent, a spankin' the little boy would get. More often a lesson he would not soon forget with a box between the ears well meant. Still he loved his dad and understood much more than his years, just what his role was to be through his own little tears. Her big little man was he. He felt his duty because mommy was gone. Always waking and running to baby brother's alarm. He gathered him up, tucking him in his own little bed, holding onto him ever so tightly 'til dawn. With his little wisdom in sight, soothing the baby with words he remembered once whispered to him in the night, "Don't cry, it will be alright." Her big little man was he. He grew to be both patient and kind, obeying the golden rule; always showing love and concern for others that he knew. He worked hard at home and school earning high honors due. Her big little man was he. As his teenage years appear, I ponder his boyhood years. I have watched with pride and love as her big little man grew. As his mother looks down from above, I pray she knew her work was done, as she lay lifeless in the autumn sun. Her little boy's destiny not forgotten, just like God's promise long ago for his own begotten. Now guided from her heavenly home by her infinite wisdom and love, I have a glimpse of a spirit who is free, to become what she always knew he would be…. A God given gift for the world to see. Her big little man was he.
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Last Updated on December 27, 2004
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