A Rushing Mighty Wind

...And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. Acts 2:2.

And so it is with our youngest son, Wind. He was the happiest, silliest most adorable little bird in the nest. Melvin always referred to the boys as his birds. "Me and my birds..." he would say. Wind had a pale face, pink ears and bewildered eyes like giant marbles, he was just too cute. The first time I arrived at their home, he called me to the bottom of the stairs and said, "You gone marry my daddy?" I smiled and said, "I don't know." With that he scurried upstairs to tell Fire and Earth, "She gone marry daddy."  Wind had this infectious giggle that prompted one to tickle him just to hear it again. He was the baby, but always attune to what was going on around him. His observations would lie dormant and just when you thought he was unaware of a situation, he would, abashedly state his point of view. Adults do not always want to hear the reproof of a child, for his comments would sometimes offend, no matter how true they were, so, Wind would be reprimanded, not for his insightfulness, but for stepping out of a child's place. Behind closed doors Melvin and I would marvel at how astute he was, and how unaware he was of his gift. To this day I don't think he realizes the full measure of his acumen.

Of my three sons, Wind knows me best. When Melvin went to California for three weeks to take care of his sister, Wind came by to either cook, clean, talk or just spend time with me. "Ma, I promised Da I would take care of you," and he did. There was only one day I didn't see him, and that was when his daughter was born.
When Da told him I was ill, he would come and hold my hand until I fell asleep or Melvin would say, "You can let her go now, son." Whenever he's here he knows just what I needs to be done to make my life happier and keep my life sane.
After Melvin went home all three of our sons stayed with me. Wind would sing to me. If he was mopping the kitchen he would be singing; scrubbing the shower walls, singing; cooking, singing. In between his songs he would come and put his humorous twist on something Earth or Fire did or said and tale does not conclude until I am weak with laughter. When Melvin left I couldn't sleep, none of us slept. We would call one another at two, three, four, five in the morning. The calls would come just at the right moment, the Hello greeting would be tinged with sorrow or nasal labored. Sometimes the boys would take me riding in the night, in silence, as if we were trying to find Da.
Death is only sad to the living and after a while Wind, the happiest of all my children, stopped smiling, ceased laughing and it tore me to slithers, for there was nothing I could do, but I prayed and I pray.
Wind has three children of his own now, all of whom bare a semblance of him, but the youngest is his clone, I am in awe each time I see him.   When he is being chastised, he's still grinning, Wind was the exact same.

It was Wind and I who stood hapless as Melvin's soul glimmered to Papa, Mu and Daddy.

...tommorrow...