As they walked down the aisle, they each were weeping. He stood very straight in black tie and tails, she was tall and willowy in white satin and lace. Her blonde hair hung smooth past her bare shoulders, his had grown back totally white.

Was it a year already, since he had wished to live only long enough to give away his only daughter? Was it a year already since they had told him, three months, maybe six?

Debbie was born two weeks after Kit. Her mother was late thirties, Kit’s was ten years younger. We worried for the older woman’s babe, we knew the possibilities of such a late pregnancy. Kit was born on an early summer evening, with a mop of tan hair, and the pixie eyes of Down Syndrome. Debbie would grow to be almost six feet, a part-time model, an Honors student, a lovely bride.

Although she was only a few feet away, Kit could not see the smile beneath the veil as she passed only so briefly beside him, she did not notice the tears he quietly snuffled into my sleeve, bewildered by the swirl of emotions around him.

Later, there was talk of the perfect wedding dress, the perfect ceremony, the perfect bride. As I bent down to set a slice of the perfect cake before him, Kit lifted his little face and kissed me on the cheek.

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My niece, Debbie, is married, my brother is very alive. A year ago I told my friends here that he had been diagnosed with cancer of the liver and intestine. His last scan showed the tumor had shrunken from over 8cm to less than 3cm, to the total amazement of his doctor. He, and I, and all the people he touches, thank each of you for the role you have played. Your prayers, thoughts, advice and well wishes have all been cherished. As is the friendship they represent.

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-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), June 21, 2001

Answers

Tears of happiness, Lon. This is such wonderful news. Thanks for sharing it with us.

-- (PatriciaS@lasvegas.com), June 21, 2001.

I hope you were fully prepped for the occasion & had you water wings on - either for something like Allison's waterworks, or yer own. {You've warmed the cockles of my stoney little heart, again.}

-- flora (***@__._), June 21, 2001.

Few tales just flat inspire but this is certainly one of them. Thanks Lon.

-- Carlos (riffraff@cybertime.net), June 21, 2001.

'Scuse me, flora, but you DON'T have a "stoney little heart"; anything but.

:-)

-- (PatriciaS@lasvegas.com), June 21, 2001.