An Ode To A Life

Yesterday morning my great uncle David Coon died after spending three weeks in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer and complications. David was nearly 80, and David had Down's Syndrome. He lived much longer than folks with Downs normally do, part of that was due to when he was born, they did not have many services for Down's kids. Had he been born today he would have had many improved speech skills and other skills. As it was, David knew some sign language and little else in the way of verbal communication. He loved the Fighting Illini, the song God Bless America, and was the biggest patriot out there.

David is truly my first relative to die since I consider myself an adult. I had several great grandparents die early in my life, but I do not recall a whole lot about them. I remember David and the lessons he taught me and the impact he had on my life.

The biggest impact for me was having someone with a severe disability in my family. Growing up I was a kid with a retarded uncle and was able to see the impact it had on me. It certainly gave me an increased understanding of love and compassion and my role as a family member. David did not say much more than "Bah-Bah", but you could always tell when he was saying hello, or cheering on the Illini. He loved to tickle the kids in the family. He loved to color and he loved seeing the whole family together. He loved his parents and his brothers and sisters. When his dad Earl died (my great-grandfather), he moved in with his mom Olive (who was wheel chair bound) and both were taken care of by his sister, my Auntie Joanne. It is still inspiring to me that Joanne gave up her life as a teacher in the Chicago suburbs to move back to small town Illinois and take care of her mother and brother. For nearly twenty years she has done this, and I worry about her now that she no longer has either one to take care of. She and David taught me that taking care of your family should always be priority number one. In spite of yourself, giving to your family is wholly rewarding.

So tomorrow I will head home and celebrate David's life with my family. He would have wanted us to be happy for him. He is now reunited with his parents, and he is in a place where disabilities don't matter for any of them. In good fashion, the ceremonies have been planned around the Illini football game, David would have hated to miss it. My self and some of my cousins will be the pallbearers, the second time I have had to perform the duty for a relative, but an honor I cherish. To be able to bear a loved one, one last time, to a place of rest feels like the ultimate honor. I am sure a lot of happy and sad tears will be shed. The saddest part for me is knowing that this is really the beginning of a challenging time for me, when I will begin to lose relatives more frequently. I feel blessed to have been able to grow up with so many of my family elders around, and I only hope that my child will be here soon enough to experience the incredible bonds that my family has.