By: Marlene Oxender
Years ago, my mom pointed out that I enjoy debating with Stevie about the necessity of celebrating his birthday. I had great fun telling him there’s no need for a celebration.
He, in turn, seemed to enjoy the opportunity to let me know we wouldn’t be skipping any part of a properly celebrated birthday. Those with Down syndrome are known to celebrate big.
In one of the videos on his Facebook page, he can be heard telling me that candles are good for you. After he said that, I had to laugh that Stevie actually came up with the words, “Candles are good for you.” He could make us chuckle.
His words about candles didn’t leave me, and as the weeks went by, I noticed the many times I was reading about light. About how flames don’t lose out in any way by sharing a bit of itself. As if a flame has a superpower.
Months later after Stevie passed away, and I began receiving sympathy cards in the mail, I noticed many of the cards pointed out the light people bring into the world.
And the light they’ve left behind. I would open my cards, read the beautiful words that’d been shared with me, and weep. One of my friends reminded me to watch out for the “little angel things” that will undoubtedly continue to happen.
Stevie was a bit of a weather watcher. If it was a beautiful day, he’d remind us. His hands would go in the air as if he could feel that everything was right with the world. He was equally affected by grey skies and would let the universe know it was time for the sun to come out.
On Arbor Day, the Village of Edgerton planted a tree in memory of Stevie. They chose a red sunset maple because it was a favorite of his. The tree was planted beside the basketball court where he’d made a few baskets. Where he’d hollered “air ball” at others. Where he’d given a few hugs and laughed a few laughs.
The school children sang “This Little Light of Mine” at the opening of the Arbor Day ceremony, and I quickly recognized a “little angel thing” moment.
Stevie had lots of favorites. In fact, the word “favorite” was a word we heard fairly often. He even had a favorite dollar bill – the ten. He didn’t care for the two-dollar bill. A twenty was a good thing, but the ten-dollar bill served him well.
The other day when I was leaving a tip for a waitress, I found myself looking in my wallet for a ten-dollar bill. It occurred to me that I did the same thing last week.
I was leaving a ten-dollar bill when I likely only needed to leave a couple of dollars. I recognized a little angel moment as I lifted the ten-dollar bill from my wallet and placed it on the table.
Now I know that no one has to ask what their purpose or mission is in life. It’s the same for all of us – just love and be loved.
Last November, I was shopping at a second-hand store and took the time to peruse the selection of books. Although a book about angels caught my eye and seemed like something that ought to go home with me, I hesitated to buy it.
There’s hardly any space left on my to-be-read shelf of books. But the urge to buy the book about angels won out, and I made a three-dollar purchase.
I went home to find this book online for $77.00, so my decision to purchase the book was a good one. I may have spent $3.00, but I saved $74.00.
What I didn’t know about the value of this book was what I would learn within the pages. That evening, I drove to the library in Auburn, Indiana where a local author would be giving a presentation at the Genealogy Center. I had arrived early, so I sat in my car for a few minutes – long enough to read the first pages of my new angel book.
So, I walked into the building having just read that angels will guide us if we ask. Sounded good to me. The librarian gave me a tour through the aisles of bookshelves and explained how the system worked.
Amongst the many books to choose from, a red book with white lettering entitled Times Remembered caught my eye. I placed the book on my library table along with a few others to thumb through before the presentation would start across the hall.
I didn’t know I’d open the book to find my Aunt Luella’s name. I didn’t know she’d published a book about her side of the family. As I turned the pages of the red book, I saw her maiden name. I saw her dad’s name.
There were thousands of books to choose from, and a book I didn’t even know my aunt had put together, was in my hands. I was in awe.
I looked around to see where the librarian was. Certainly, she’d want to know what just happened. Certainly, she’d want to see the pictures of my Uncle Bob and Aunt Luella on their wedding day.
And I would show her the pictures of my cousins who’d grown up in Indiana. I was alone in the library but looked for someone who’d like to take a look at this book.
The best I could do was text a picture of Uncle Bob to my siblings and ask if they could guess who he was. And they did.
There were more “little angel” moments that continued that evening, leaving me with a few angel stories to share later.
I’ve heard others say Stevie taught us a lot, and I know what they mean. We watched how he allowed himself to be loved. How he knew he was more than enough. How he couldn’t contain his inner being – it was shining for others to see.
Just when I think I’m turning the pages of my life story without him, I find I am not. And although it seems those, we’ve loved are no longer with us, they are. We can’t hold them in our arms any more than we can hold the moonlight, but they’re still present.
They’re guiding us. They’re still teaching us.
It shouldn’t surprise me that I received the message, and now I understand – candles are good for you.
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Marlene Oxender is a writer, speaker, and author. She writes about growing up in the small town of Edgerton, her ten siblings, the memorabilia in her parents’ estate, and her younger brother, Stevie Kimpel, who was born with Down syndrome. Her two recently published books, Picket Fences and Stevie, are available on Amazon.
