Yesterday, Steve, the man who experienced seizures during our Sunday program, died.  The day before I hand fed him his lunch and we laughed and joked with his mother.  Steve giggled at my silliness which only encouraged me to be sillier.

Today when he was put under anesthesia to have an MRI, his heart began to fade and they were never able to recover him.  The doctors say that he must have had an underlying heart condition that caused his death. 

Steve was 53, an old man in the years of a Downs person but none of us were ready for him to die.  He had not been sick in years.  He went to work every day.  He faithfully came to church.  He climbed the stairs.   I held his mother and sister and they wept.  As I got into the car to return to my home, I wanted to cry but I didn’t want to cry alone.  I called my sister who has a Special Gathering program in South Carolina.  We cried and laughed together, mingling the joy of his life with our pain of parting.  When I came home and saw my husband sitting in his wheelchair, we wept again.

Thank God for his comfort and release but, at times, life is too hard.