Donnie

Introducing my children

Donnie’s Story

Donnie was born Donald Bernard , on November 11/64, in Vancouver, B.C,
Canada. He weighed in at 5lb 8 oz. He was just a little fella…but, he was
Wonderful. His brother and sister would hold him and coo over him as if they
Owned him. They hated it when I would take him to change, feed and bathe him

They watched in awe as I lifted that tiny
Little thing into his baby bath. Each would take a turn washing his little
Hands or feet. I loved all my babies so much and learned from the get-go
That you let the older ones help with the baby. And, help they did. But, all
Was not well, as I thought it was. I had to keep running him in and out of
The Doctor’s office. He was not holding anything down.
This was a three month trial and error part on the Doctor and my part.
His formula was being changed all of the time and different tests were taken
To find out why he was not gaining much weight. When he was three months
Old, I called into the doctors
Office and told him Donnie was losing too much weight and seemed to be very
Listless. He was immediately hospitalized. He weighed only seven pounds. He
Seemed
To drop all the weight over night. When visiting hours were over, the
Doctor
Sent me home and said he would stay with him. At about 10 PM, he called me
And told
Me that he did not think Donnie would live until morning..I was forbidden
Again to be
There. I had another call from a gal who had her baby the same day asking
How he was. I told her and she said “It’s too bad he didn’t have staph like
My baby did.. I didn’t even know what staph was. I called the Doctor back
And asked if he did indeed have this problem. He said they didn’t check on
That because he didn’t have a sore bottom which is synonymous with staph. My
Babies
Never had a sore bottom. I figured I wouldn’t want to lay around in
Soiled underwear and so why would my babies have to. I considered sore
Bottoms to be
Laziness or neglect on the parents part. He promised he would do that test
Right away
And call me in the morning. I think I drove the nurses crazy all night with
My calls. When I called again at around 7 am, the nurse told
Me she was not supposed to tell me, but, he had shown a minute change for
The better, but,cautioned me not to get my hopes up. An hour later the
Doctor called and told me that he did have staff and they were treating him
(since the night before) and there was every sign for a good recovery. In a
Few days I brought my baby home with a new formula , mulsoy (not sure of
Spelling for that anymore) Meanwhile his paternal grandmother was calling
Me and telling me that it was all my fault. I called and asked the doctor
What I did wrong with him. He told me it was NOT
My fault, that it was … If anyone was to blame, his.
(Bet you’ll never hear a doctor say that these days) He said mother in law
Was calling his office demanding information on Donnie, but, according to
His nurse, she was so rude, she would not even put her phone number down.
He asked me for the number..hung up and called her. Told her off, royally.
To this day..she has not apologized.
So, he had a pretty rocky start. He was a delightful little boy.
He loved everyone. He defended another child who was handicapped, and
Remained his constant companion until his family moved to another place.
Donnie met and cared for so many people. He had befriended a man who had
Lost one arm, but, this man was a skilled skin-diver.
Donnie was so amazed at this man it was unreal. Another time, he came home
With the story of a man who told him he could come there , but,he didn’t
Believe in God so Donnie couldn’t talk about God anymore. He said he wouldn
t
Talk to him about God, but, he would pray for him everyday. And, he did.
Another time, he came home and said ‘Boy, that person ( a childhood friend)
Sure makes me so mad, I could just kill him. Then he added. But, God won’t
Let me..so I’ll have to love him anyway. I always smiled to myself when he
Would say these things,because I knew how tender his heart was. He went
Around
The neighbourhood and helped people in their gardens..or do yard work for
The
Older people. He tolerated the taunts when he would escort a 5 yr old to
Kindergarten everyday. Because she was East Indian, they were rude and
abusive.
Donnie said he didn’t mind them teasing him..but, he didn’t like them to
tease her.
Donnie loved sports, hiking, adventures, horseback riding. He would stop at
neighbours
to ask to bring some of their flowers home to me. They always obliged. In
the winter,
he would make something for me at recess. Just to bring me a gift. When
their father and
I split up…Donnie was the first to say, it’s okay mom. The week following
the split,
the kids and I moved to a house pretty well on the outskirts. He had made a
friend that
had horses. He loved his friend, but I think he loved the horses more. The
first night
in our new home we all slept in sleeping bags on the floors of our rooms. I
took the kids
to their new school the next day and started to arrange things and clean a
house that had
been left dirty.
It came time for me to pick them up from school and Donnie was not there. I
was so worried
about him. But, I hadn’t told him I was coming so he didn’t do anything
wrong. I drove home
with my other children and some of their friends came along because they
lived near us. As I
was getting out of my car, I heard Donnie calling out to me. I could hear
something in his
voice that made me aware that he had a problem. Following the sound of his
voice, we all
looked over at the neighbour’s barn and there was Donnie..up in the hayloft
and all the
cows had come home. He ran up to the loft to escape them. Butch and another
boy went
over to get him. There were all these huge cows and this one little boy (who
had never been
really around them) being held hostage in the loft. When they saw him go
into the barn..they
thought it was feeding time. After, his rescue, we all had this wonderful
chuckle over,
yet another of Donnie’s adventures.
He got to see inside the barn..the hard way! I told him I would make his
favorite dinner
which was mac and cheese with burger patties. His friend Connie came down on
her horse and they
went for a ride. He was supposed to be home for dinner and was a bit late..I
called his friend’s
house and her dad said he told them they could ride in the back fields. I
asked that he send him
home as soon as they came back. Dinner was ready and, I continued to sweep
up and tend to some unpacking.
There was a knock at the back door and a policeman was there to tell me my
Donnie drown. They had a diver
there to retrieve his body from the gravel pit. It was the same man Donnie
had been friends with all along.
He didn’t realize it was Donnie until he brought his body out of the water.
I am told he wept like a child
when he saw him. I was not allowed to go to the pit. I had to go to the
hospital morgue to identify his body.
My family doctor was there and took me with my friend to the basement. The
walk down the long corridor was
without description. When the nurse opened the room, all that was in there
was a couple of folding chairs and a
table against the wall. I didn’t even notice the heavy door almost in front
of me,but it was a little to the
right. She opened the door and pulled out the stretcher with the sheet
covered body. His little hand was
showing..I knew that little hand. How many times I had held it, kissed it,
washed it, and even smacked it .
I knew my baby’s hand. When she pulled back the sheet it revealed my little
boy and I asked why they hadn’t
washed his face. The Dr. said it was not dirty.. that was when I learned
Donnie had his last adventure by telling
Connie he could ride a raft. He jumped onto the raft..catching the edge
which capsized and caused his death. No more
ball games on the spur of the moment because Donnie wanted to go..no more
would his dog be able to nuzzle him in the
early morning to take him for his walk. No more would I be able to laugh
with him and cry with him.
He had had his last adventure on earth and now his Greatest adventure with
God was just beginning.
Dear God, I miss him so much. I miss him as if it was yesterday. In grief
there is no time..
it stands still forever, because there is always part of us that wants them
back so badly.
I always have and I always will love my third born child.
And, that place in my heart will ever remain empty..for it is his.
Kathryn-Mary
When I was a child we watched a television movie with a group of emigrants
trying to make a life for themselves in a new
land. In this story was an incredibly pretty girl who’s name was
Kathryn-Mary. Of course as a youngster, I was so taken
with the name, I told my brothers and sisters if I ever had a little girl, I
would be naming her after this girl.
When I became pregnant for the second time, I prayed so hard for a girl
because I had a son and I wanted a daughter.
God answered and allowed me to mother this glorious baby girl. I named her
Kathryn-Mary. Her middle name Irene
( after one of the best mothers I have ever known..my former sis in law’s
mom). So, here I was with my little
girl. I counted every finger every toe..peeked into her diaper a couple of
times because I was making sure.
After all, I didn’t want to name a boy Kathryn-Mary.. (smile).
Butch loved his little baby sister. When she was old enough to really play,
Butch delighted in playing catch
and didn’t even mind playing dolls with her ( we never called him a sissy,
nor, did any one else dare). They
loved each other with a passion. Kathryn-Mary some how became Kit. Probably
because Butch could not say her
full name, and, their momma said there were enough Kathys in the family.
Mommy pretty well kept it to Kath
or Kathryn-Mary,rarely Kit and never Kathy. Oh, dear God, she was so
beautiful. Dark brown curly hair made
lighter by the sun. A smile that cold melt the coldest of hearts. And,
personality, plus. I was so grateful
for a little girl. Her, I could dress up. Boys didn’t have the clothes back
then that they do now. I bought her
every beautiful dress etc. that I could. It was fun to dress her up. I had
three sons after Kath and I enjoyed
everyone of them as much as I did Kath and Butch. If I could have had a baby
a year I would have done. But, I
had to settle for five. Kath grew so fast. She loved to play mommy to the
boys and I worked on making her realize
that she had to be a little girl first and a mommy when she got married. I
spend a lot of time with my children.
We went on hikes, picnics, played ball, ran races, stood on our heads
together in a row ( trying to see who could
stay up the longest), went to their favorite place for them to play in the
water. I had fun with my kids. All three
of my oldest children sat on a horse like they were born in the saddle. I
was terrified at thought of getting on one..let
alone riding one. Kath and I usually sat on the blanket when the boys were
in the water. We talked about all kinds of things.
Being from a brutal background, I swore my kids could say how they felt
about anything. They could ask me questions about any
thing and it would be answered. These were the times when Kath and I had
most of our special talks. These were the times when
we talked about what she wanted to do. These were the times we talked about
her wedding day. Her future. Her ideas. Her dreams.
Not my plans for her. I didn’t want to insinuate any of my own thoughts. It
would be her life. Her choices. I was so eager to
share her dreams. She would have the support I never did. She would have the
love, I never had. She would not have to wonder
if her mother would ever love her.
Her heart ached after Donnie drown. I didn’t even know for sometime after.
The kids just never talked about him. I honestly
thought that children must get over death a lot easier then adults did.
Until one day when Butch told me that Kathryn-Mary was
crying. I went into her bedroom and she was sobbing so much I thought my
already bruised heart was going to break into tiny pieces.
I held her in my arms and rocked her as she wept. Her words were like a
knife in my heart. She missed Donnie. And, she wanted
to be with him. God, when I look back on that, my heart ache increases. She
did go to be with him. When her sobs were under control.
We talked for a long time as to how she had missed him so much and how her
brothers missed him as well. Some well meaning idiot
told my babies if they talked about Donnie, I would feel bad.It was then
that I learned they had all talked about him whenever
they were out of the house. It must have been so hard for my babies..I
wanted to throttle whoever told them that kind of nonsense.
It was then that my children began to heal. They knew talking to mommy would
work in their favor. And, they now knew it was okay to
talk about their pain over losing Donnie. No more would they have to suffer
in silence. They were free to express their feelings again.
I marvelled at Kath’s ability to bounce back.Talking seemed to help her to
deal with the loss of her little brother. I was so happy that
the veil over talking about Donnie had been lifted. Now,his name would be a
common word in our house. They were no longer afraid to talk about him.
In the month of August (at least I think it was in Aug) , I joined a single
parent club and they did all kinds of neat outings for children.
September came and we all faced the anniversary of Donnie’s death. On the
morning of September 24th , Kath put her arms around me and said the
same thing she always said. What are you doing down there, Shortie? She then
told me she had such a wonderful surprise for my birthday (the next day)
and teased me that she was making me wait for the next day for her surprise.
I took the kids to school and went about my own plans for a weekend of fun.
I figured we would not leave the place we were going with the club. Instead,
we would have our games and whatever, after the single parents event was
over. This was contingent on the length of time the event took. I had a
parent’s meeting that night. The plans being made were to visit a fish
hatchery,
picnic and have a day of fun. I called Kath because she was long overdue.
She said she was coming right home. I told her she was grounded. I went on
to my
meeting. I had loaned my car out and so needed a ride home. One of the
members drove me home. We arrived home about 9:50 pm. We barely pulled into
the yard
when my oldest (Butch ) and the 16 year old girl I had taken in off the
streets came running out to tell me Kath had not come home yet. I went into
the house
and got my keys and took my son (who knew where she was visiting ) and a
young woman who was visiting her sister ( who also lived with me) and we
went to the
house to pick my daughter up. She had left around 9 pm they told us. We hadn
t passed her on the road and so, went back home to see her there. She wasn’t

I started to phone all her friends, getting many a parent out of bed. She
was not with any of them. We then went to the police and reported her
missing. We
continued to search all night and into the next day. Still no sign of her.
The secretary from the parents club called to wish me a happy birthday and I
had
not remembered it. I thanked her for her thoughtfulness and told her I
couldn’t talk because we were headed out to the school to talk to the
principal.
Some members of the parent club came over to help with the search. Every
night and day we were out looking for her. I sent the two little boys to
school,
and their brother was skipping to search for his sister..so I relented and
kept him with me. I saw the light in his eyes dim. Dear God, please let her
come
home safe. The longer we searched, the more frightened I became that we
might find her. We went into wooded areas. Where ever the soil looked
disturbed we
dug, praying all the while, that we would not find her. The sister of the
sixteen year old said she was not dead, God would not be that cruel. All the
while
Kath was missing, I was so sick inside with the dread of the unspoken words
running around in my mind. I had been with a friend who said I just can’t
believe
Kathryn-Mary is missing. She said this over and over until I couldn’t handle
it anymore. I ( stupidly) said no she wasn’t, that she was locked in the
basement
and I was going to let her out in three weeks adding something like, of
course she’s missing..otherwise we would not be having this conversation.
She made the
mistake of repeating the conversation to someone else, who told someone else
and so on. A police officer told me they were coming in the morning with a
warrant
to search my house. I asked why..and he said someone had told the police
that Kath had hidden something
in the basement. After he left, I went to the basement to find whatever she
may have left there. I searched until the wee hours of the morning and
accomplished
nothing. I called the officer and asked him to come back. When he arrived, I
told him I had searched and found nothing. And then, I asked what it was. He
then
told me that someone had called and said I told that I killed her and buried
her in my basement!!! I said for him NOT to wait for the warrant..to go
ahead and
search. As we went through the house together, it didn’t take him long to
realize..I would have had to use a jackhammer or pick and shovel to get
through the
cement floor and then I would have had to mix the cement , replace what I
had disturbed and then age it awful freaking? fast to be in sync with all
the cement
surrounding it. How obvious would that have been!!! He told me the name of
the woman who said it and I had never heard of her. He said another thing
that ripped
at my already tattered soul..I would be able to smell her if she was dead
and hidden here!!!
The police came back the next day and I said go ahead and search. They said
they did not have too because I had allowed the other officer to search in
the
middle of the night. They had already back tracked to my friend and learned
what she had really said and she had told someone other then this person she
felt
so helpless and was so sad for me because of my panicked state wondering
where my baby was I had said she was locked in the basement..etc. At this
point in
time I asked that they verify where I was the night she disappeared. No they
said they knew where I was. And, they knew I didn’t know where Kath was. Aw.
the
gossip and the added grief…how quick are we to believe lies and not
question. How quick are we to always believe the worst rather then look at
the best. How much
more fun is it then to pass on unsubstantiated garbage? How cruel are we
humans to our fellow man? Why are we motivated by jealousy, greed and
vindictiveness? Why is
it we cannot be glad that someone else shares the load and takes some of the
limelight away from us??? All of these things lead to destruction. Are we
not our own worst
enemy when we do these things? Why can we not share and care on an adult
level? How wrong are we for not looking at our own motivations behind what
we are feeling when
we are negative about another’s actions?? How is it that in a so-called
caring world, we allow others to destroy our dreams, or, add salt to our
wounds???
This is something we all have to work through every single day. And, it was
I realized, just the beginning of man’s inhumanity to man. These people were
not through with
me yet. I received several phone calls. These were from some special person
who added to my pain by telling me she would be found all cut up. The police
did not take it
seriously for a long time. Then they finally tapped my line and found out it
was a radio announcer who had pretended friendship and caring for my family.
He, of course,
said I had called him and wouldn’t hang up. Then he kept calling the phone
company saying I was calling him all the time. Fortunately for me there were
those people in
the house to say that NO ONE was using the phone! This same person was
working on my son to get him to live with him and his girlfriend. Talk about
sickos!!! He sure added
to our distress. The problem right now is, I cannot remember if this
information was found out before or after they found Kath.
I had one police officer tell me not to call the station anymore. He said
they would call us if they heard anything. When I complained to another cop
about it. He was quick
to remind me I was a welfare mother ..he paid my way, I didn’t pay his!!!!
After this happened, I started to go out drinking and dancing. I didn’t want
to think about anything
anymore. My baby was missing. My other baby was dead. I couldn’t bear to
feel anymore. I drank as much as I could to dull the senses. At least three
nights a week were dedicated
to drink. I didn’t have it in the home because of my children. I have to
tell you folks..drinking is NOT the answer!!!! Either you face it or find
another way. I sure as hell
couldn’t get drunk enough to make the pain of her missing go away.
On Saturday, November 15,1975, I prayed to God and asked Him. If she has run
way, which I don’t believe. Please let me know where she is. I promised I
would not make her come home.
I just wanted her to know I loved her. But, if she was dead, which I was
starting to believe. Please give her back to me so I could bury her. I
wanted to weep..but, the tears would not come.
My friends had called and invited my children and I to dinner on the
following Monday. We were just about to sit down to dinner when the phone
rang asking me to come home. The police were
waiting for me. My friends kept the children and I drove home with my heart
ready to explode either they had Kathryn-Mary or they found out where she
was staying. That she was dead did not even
enter my mind at that point. I had to calm myself. I took a deep breath as I
pulled into my driveway and parked behind the police car. The date November
17th..two days after I
prayed my prayer. My baby girl was dead. She had been murdered.
To date..this case remains unsolved..and I still battle for justice
..My baby girl deserves justice and I demand it!!! Butch (William Edward)
Oct 21/61 – Mar 09\83..My first born child
My Butch was for the most part a loving, caring person. He was unable to
deal with the deaths of his brother and sister (especially because her
murder was not solved and still is not). I watched my son deteriorate and
had no resources to help him. He turned to
drugs and lost himself in that world. He was (I learned just before
Christmas in 1982, his last visit home) emotionally abusive to the boys,
making them get up in the middle of the night
to read the bible to him. Strangely enough, the boys seemed to understand he
was ill. He went back to Vancouver Island where he was working and
telephoned home on rare occasions.
Then in January of 1983 I had to fly to Ontario because my father was
hospitalized. I stayed in the hospital with him for two and a half weeks
until he died. My mother wanted to
move and so I stayed to help her find a place and pack up her house. My
father died on her 65th birthday Feb 5th/83 and was buried on my youngest
brother’s birthday on the 9th,
and then exactly one month later my husband call on the 9th of March to tell
me Butch had suicided. I had a terrible time getting a flight home so Gord
(my hubby) had to make
arrangements from Vancouver for my flight from Toronto. It was so hard. When
I got home Gord told me Butch had called him a few nights before and he said
he didn’t believe that
his grandfather died. He said he just knew we broke up and Gord was lying to
him. What he didn’t tell Gord was that he was on the psych ward in the
hospital.
He had committed himself to get help. He had signed out on a noon hour
grounds pass and had an hour to be out. When he left, he went to Canadian
Tire and bought a rope. He was found hanging in the trees near the hospital
by two youngsters. When I telephoned the hospital the nurse who answered
started to cry when I
identified myself. Needless to say, I was startled by her response and asked
her why. SHE was the one who signed him out. She was in trouble and she was
feeling guilty and
she wanted to know if I was going to sue. Man, I was so sick at heart. This
poor little thing had the whole world on her shoulders. I told her it was
NOT her fault. My son
was very clever and she would never have known his intentions. He could have
conned a blind man into buying glasses. His nature was so soothing. I was
not going to sue..it
wouldn’t bring him back. I gave her instructions on who was going to pick up
his belongings and hung up. When someone came over to the house and said to
me I don’t want you
to feel guilty because of what has happened, I realized I didn’t feel guilty
If professionals didn’t see it coming..how would I know?? How would any of
us know?? If he had
said to me “Mom, I am going to suicide,ok?” I would have said no and had him
close to me until those feelings passed. This was not my choice..it was his.
A permanent solution
to a temporary problem. I don’t love him any less then my other children,
both living and dead. I don’t miss him any less then his brother and sister.
And, my heart aches and
longs for him as much as it does for Kathryn-Mary and Donnie.
I still fight 30 yrs later to solve my daughter’s murder..her’s is NOT a
cold case to me.

 

DONALD (known as DONNIE) BERNARD HERBERT

 

http://www.familiesandfriendsofmurdervictim.com/id7.html

 

Donnie was born Donald Bernard Herbert, on November 11/64, in Vancouver, B.C, Canada. He weighed in at 5lb 8 oz. He was just a little fella…but he was wonderful. His brother and sister would hold him and coo over him as if they owned him. They hated it when I would take him to change, feed and bathe him.

 

They watched in awe as I lifted that tiny little thing into his baby bath. Each would take a turn washing his little hands or feet. I loved all my babies so much and learned from the get-go that you let the older ones help with the baby. And, help they did. But, all was not well, as I thought it was. I had to keep running him in and out of the Doctor’s office. He was not holding anything down.

 

This was a three-month trial and error part on the Doctor and my part.

 

His formula was being changed all of the time and different tests were taken to find out why he was not gaining much weight. When he was three months old, I called into the doctor’s office and told him Donnie was losing too much weight and seemed to be very listless. He was immediately hospitalized. He weighed only seven pounds.

 

He seemed to drop all the weight over night. When visiting hours were over, the Doctor sent me home and said he would stay with him. At about

10 P.M., he called me and told me that he did not think Donnie would live until morning was forbidden again to be there. I had another call from a gal who had her baby the same day asking how he was. I told her and she said “It’s too bad he didn’t have staph like my baby did.  I didn’t even know what staph was. I called the Doctor back and asked if he did indeed have this problem. He said they didn’t check on that because he didn’t have a sore bottom which is synonymous with staph. My babies never had a sore bottom. I figured I wouldn’t want to lay around in soiled underwear and so why would my babies have to. I considered sore bottoms to be laziness or neglect on the parent’s part. He promised he would do that test right away and call me in the morning.  I think I drove the nurses crazy all night with my calls. When I called again at around 7 am, the nurse told me she was not supposed to tell me, but, he had shown a minute change for the better, but, cautioned me not to get my hopes up. An hour later the Doctor called and told me that he did have staff and they were treating him (since the night before) and there was every sign for a good recovery. In a few days I brought my baby home with a new formula, mulsoy (not sure of spelling for that anymore) Meanwhile his paternal grandmother was calling me and telling me that it was all my fault. I called and asked the doctor what I did wrong with him. He told me it was NOT my fault, that it was … if anyone was to blame, his.

 

(Bet you’ll never hear a doctor say that these days) He said mother in law was calling his office demanding information on Donnie, but, according to his nurse, she was so rude, she would not even put her phone number down.

 

He asked me for the number…hung up and called her. Told her off, royally. To this day.she has not apologized.

 

So, he had a pretty rocky start. He was a delightful little boy.

 

He loved everyone. He defended another child who was handicapped, and remained his constant companion until his family moved to another place.

 

Donnie met and cared for so many people. He had befriended a man who had lost one arm, but this man was a skilled skin-diver.

 

Donnie was so amazed at this man it was unreal.  Another time, he came home with the story of a man who told him he could come there, but he didn’t believe in God so Donnie couldn’t talk about God anymore. He said he wouldn’t talk to him about God, but he would pray for him everyday.

And, he did.

 

Another time, he came home and said ‘Boy, that person (a childhood

friend) sure makes me so mad, I could just kill him. Then he added.

But, God won’t let me…so I’ll have to love him anyway. I always smiled to myself when he would say these things, because I knew how tender his heart was. He went around the neighbourhood and helped people in their gardens…or do yard work for the older people. He tolerated the taunts when he would escort a 5 yr old to kindergarten everyday. Because she was East Indian, they were rude and abusive.

 

Donnie said he didn’t mind them teasing him…but he didn’t like them to tease her.  Donnie loved sports, hiking, adventures, horseback riding.

He would stop at neighbours to ask to bring some of their flowers home to me. They always obliged.

 

In the winter, he would make something for me at recess. Just to bring me a gift.

 

When their father and I split up…Donnie was the first to say, it’s okay mom. The week following the split, the kids and I moved to a house pretty well on the outskirts. He had made a friend that had horses. He loved his friend, but I think he loved the horses more. The first night in our new home we all slept in sleeping bags on the floors of our rooms. I took the kids to their new school the next day and started to arrange things and clean a house that had been left dirty.

 

It came time for me to pick them up from school and Donnie was not there.

 

I was so worried about him. But, I hadn’t told him I was coming so he didn’t do anything wrong. I drove home with my other children and some of their friends came along because they lived near us. As I was getting out of my car, I heard Donnie calling out to me. I could hear something in his voice that made me aware that he had a problem. Following the sound of his voice, we all looked over at the neighbour’s barn and there was Donnie…up in the hayloft and all the cows had come home. He ran up to the loft to escape them. Butch and another boy went over to get him.

There were all these huge cows and this one little boy (who had never been really around them) being held hostage in the loft. When they saw him go into the barn…they thought it was feeding time. After, his rescue, we all had this wonderful chuckle over, yet another of Donnie’s adventures.

 

He got to see inside the barn…the hard way!  I told him I would make his favorite dinner, which was mac and cheese with burger patties. His friend Connie came down on her horse and they went for a ride. He was supposed to be home for dinner and was a bit late…I called his friend’s house and her dad said he told them they could ride in the backfields.  I asked that he send him home as soon as they came back.

Dinner was ready and, I continued to sweep up and tend to some unpacking.

 

There was a knock at the back door and a policeman was there to tell me my Donnie drown. They had a diver there to retrieve his body from the gravel pit.  It was the same man Donnie had been friends with all along.

 

He didn’t realize it was Donnie until he brought his body out of the water.

 

I am told he wept like a child when he saw him. I was not allowed to go to the pit. I had to go to the hospital morgue to identify his body.

 

My family doctor was there and took me with my friend to the basement.

The walk down the long corridor was without description. When the nurse opened the room, all that was in there was a couple of folding chairs and a table against the wall. I didn’t even notice the heavy door almost in front of me, but it was a little to the right. She opened the door and pulled out the stretcher with the sheet-covered body. His little hand was showing…I knew that little hand. How many times I had held it, kissed it, washed it, and even smacked it.

 

I knew my baby’s hand. When she pulled back the sheet it revealed my little boy and I asked why they hadn’t washed his face. The Dr. said it was not dirty.that was when I learned Donnie had his last adventure by telling

 

Connie he could ride a raft. He jumped onto the raft.catching the edge, which capsized and caused his death. No more ball games on the spur of the moment because Donnie wanted to go…no more would his dog be able to nuzzle him in the early morning to take him for his walk. No more would I be able to laugh with him and cry with him.

 

He had had his last adventure on earth and now his Greatest adventure with God was just beginning.

 

Dear God, I miss him so much. I miss him as if it was yesterday. In grief there is no time.it stands still forever, because there is always part of us that wants them back so badly.

 

I always have and I always will love my third born child.

 

And, that place in my heart will ever remain empty…for it is his.