Katy McKenna Raymond  
Personal blog of christian writer Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri


Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary

Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net

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Father and Son

"There will be other babies," my father said, and of course, he was right.

But I didn't want to hear it, not when I was crying into the phone about just losing our first son, a baby who had lived inside of me for fourteen weeks before falling from my body into my own hand.

"But I want this baby..." I wailed.

My poor father didn't know what else to say. Thank God, though, he knew what to sing. Christmas came around, and I stood beside him in the Catholic church I'd grown up in, one hymnal between us, with him never needing to look down at the words for reassurance.

"Glo-o-o-o-o-o, o-o-o-o-o, o-o-o-o-o-ria in excelsis Deo!"

He sang a haunting descant, born of more suffering than I could have understood, at least at my delicate age. Woven gracefully throughout the notes of his chant were the unspoken echoes of his fatherless childhood, the terrors of war, and yes, the heartbreaking loss of his own firstborn son.

All of it tenderly mingled with faith in a mysterious Savior.

When the stirring rendition came to an end, he touched my hand, by accident I thought back then, but now I'm not so sure. I looked over at him and smiled, but he looked straight ahead, unblinking. Still, I didn't miss the tears in his eyes.

There were other babies, of course. And one more baby lost, too. And many, many tears.

Two days after my father died, I found out I was pregnant with the boy I will forever call my baby. At the time, I remember thanking God for the gift He had given to console me over the loss of my father.

Next month, the gift will turn twenty years old.

This morning at church he stood beside me, a grown man. Together we lifted our voices to our heavenly Father and I--in some strange way--to my earthly father, as well. My son's voice rose strong and melodic, and this time I provided the haunting descant.

"Glo-o-o-o-o-o, o-o-o-o-o, o-o-o-o-o-ria in excelsis Deo..."

When the song ended, I touched his hand, by accident he must have thought. When he turned to me, I smiled, but my eyes stared straight ahead, vision blurred with the tears of generations.

"There will be other babies," my father said.

Ah, yes. My baby.
Posted by Katy on 12/05/04 at 02:50 PM
Fallible Comments...
  1. Beautiful.
    -----
    Posted by Carrie K.  on  12/05/04  at  11:18 PM
  2. That is a stunning bit of writing. If I were a publisher, I'd offer you a book contract based on that piece alone.

    Thank you.
    Posted by Christine  on  12/06/04  at  01:54 AM
  3. Oh my...
    Thank you.
    Posted by Anne  on  12/06/04  at  05:17 AM
  4. I hope these tears in my eyes don't mess up my make-up just before I head out the door. Beautiful and touching, Kay. Thank you.

    Robin
    Posted by Robin Lee Hatcher  on  12/06/04  at  07:32 PM
  5. What a wonderful post!
    Posted by Hope  on  12/06/04  at  10:03 PM
  6. Very touching...
    Posted by Deb  on  12/07/04  at  08:09 PM
  7. Absolutely beautiful. Thank you.
    Anthony
    Posted by Anthony Pierce  on  12/10/04  at  07:39 PM
    8. Page 1 of 1 pages
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