Wendy

DANNY BOY###

The ordeal was over. Emily felt faint as she watched the last of the mourners depart the funeral home. She collapsed on a red, plush, folding chair in front of the small coffin. Taking deep breaths, and expelling huge amounts of air, Emily attempted to stop the nausea. ###
There had been plenty of time to prepare for the inevitable. But the barrage of well-meaning people offering the same meaningless phrases had been worse to bear than his death. ###
Emily felt the light touch of her mother’s hand on her shoulder. Without turning, Emily closed her eyes, raised her own hand and laid it to rest on top of her mother’s. She whispered, “Mom, I want to sit here alone for awhile.” She felt her mother’s soft kiss on her check, heard light footsteps on the tile floor, and the slight click of the door. Silence enveloped her. ###
Emily was unaware of how much time passed. It didn’t matter. Finally, she rose and approached the casket. She looked down, full into his face—the misshapen, beautiful face. The scars on his forehead, from repeated accidents, showed visibly. She wouldn’t let them be covered with heavy makeup. She continued to stare just as she had done every night while he slept. ###
Emily’s eyes followed the white satin lining down to her son’s chubby hand. His fingers loosely held the strange wooden object that he made, that he carried everywhere, and that he died clutching. ###
He had been born on the first of April. Emily’s husband, Dan, was ecstatic and proud beyond belief. They named him Daniel Matthew Greene, Jr. ###
From the very beginning Emily knew something was wrong, but it didn’t make a difference. When the nurse first brought Danny to her, she saw beyond his deformed face, and instantly and completely fell in love. The diagnosis came quickly—severe Down syndrome with congenital heart disease. ###
Dan was crushed and disoriented. Emily embraced the challenge. She researched every website, read every book, talked to every doctor, took every course, and joined every support group. ###
Every aspect of their lives revolved around Danny. Through the operations, anguish, anger, and tears, Emily became stronger—more efficient. The more she became a good mother, the less she became a wife. ###
Dan took a job traveling, rarely coming home, until he moved out. Emily didn’t blame him. He was a good man. He tried; he just couldn’t cope. She was the one who filed for divorce, not out of resentment, but out of understanding. ###
As Danny grew, Emily needed help, so she moved in with her retired parents. Danny couldn’t pronounce more than one syllable. He called his grandparents “Ma and Pa.” He called his mother “La,” which was his word for love. ###
Danny idolized his grandfather, following him everywhere. Pa liked to tinker around in his woodshop and build things. He helped Danny make his wooden toy out of scrapes. Danny decided it was a car because he loved to ride in the family car, with the windows open, so he could feel the breeze blowing on his face. He liked to watch objects go by fast. He would smile and giggle, demanding, “Fast—More.” ###
While opening and closing the pivotal, pointy piece of wood attached to his car, displaying his widest grin, Danny would shout, “Me in car.” ###
Emily reached down and removed Danny’s car from the casket. A slight, sad smile creased the corners of her mouth, and then she pressed the toy back into his waiting hand. ###
For seven years—much longer than the doctors predicted—they had been each other’s world. No one had as sweet a disposition, could make her laugh, or give hugs like her Danny Boy. ###
She bent and kissed his cheek. The stone coldness against her warm lips confirmed that Danny’s wondrous spirit was not there. As Emily straightened, there were tears in her eyes, but they did not spill onto her face. ###
She wasn’t sure what she would do from this point forward. There would be time to decide. She only knew her experience had prepared her to do something important. Emily turned and walked away, without looking back. ###