By Marjorie Arnett
It called to mind the Friday after Easter 2020. That is the day my younger son Chad William Powell died.
Because of the Pandemic I could not go back to Milwaukee when he became ill.
Because of the pandemic I could not participate and share in his funeral.
Because of the pandemic I set alone in front of my computer, watching his funeral, grieving alone.
Even though no one could hear it, I read aloud the paragraph below that I had written; an incident from Chad’s childhood that I call.
THE BOY WHO BECAME THE MAN
Chad was delivering Milwaukee Friends Meeting Christmas baskets with me. There was a boy in the home named Eddie Earl. He was about Chad’s age and they quickly made friends with each other.
Chad noticed how cold the house was on a windy Milwaukee winter day. Impulsively, Chad gave Eddie Earl a favorite Hot Wheels that he had in his pocket. There was also snow in the pocket which was packed around the toy car.
The car was so cold that Eddie Earl‘s bare hands dropped it. Chad apologized, picked up the car, gave Eddie Earl his new gloves and handed the car back. Incidentally, it was a trick for Chad to get the gloves off. He regularly lost gloves and mittens so they were on heavy yarn and clips.
I often wonder if he lost them or if he gave them away.