Melody

I share this very special story with you in honor of my brother, Edward. Ed passed away on June 24, 2004. Long live the memory of my brother.

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The water in the river was cold but felt great on my feet and calves. I moved my feet in the water a bit and the water climbed higher on my leg. Charlie was playing a bit upstream trying to catch a tiny fish to bring home. One braid had fallen apart and was starting to come out but the other held firm. She stopped her pursuit, as if sensing my stare, and waved at me. Her smile was brighter than the sun. Back again to her game.

I thought of inviting one of Charlie's friends with us next time. We had just had a great picnic, Charlie and I. Charlie was such a little jabberjaw it was hilarious to listen to her. She talked of trees, grass, salamanders, frogs, fish, anything and everything. Her little voice a melody to my ears.

Her little voice reminded me of my own so long ago, splashing my feet in a little brook near my home. My friend, Melody, was with me. We played house and took turns hiking down the hill to grab water to bring up to our "house" (an old oak tree that kept us shady in the sun).

It was here, by this tiny brook, that we had decided our future. She wanted to marry a cowboy and have lots of horses. I told her that I wanted to marry my best friend. I was going to be her maid of honor and she was to be mine. I was 11 and she was 10 this sunny day.

Melody loved horses. She thought I was the luckiest person alive because I had an appaloosa named Little Squaw. She used to love coming over to my house and ride my horse.

One day that summer she was absolutely boiling over with excitement. She shared with me the fact that she was getting a pony tomorrow. Oh, how her blue eyes glittered with anticipation. I smiled down at her and told her that would be great. I could bring her on the trails I knew.

The next day I was playing on my swingset. To this day I don't know if I heard something or somehow sensed something . . . but I grabbed my bike and rode to Melody's house. Her parents were kneeling on the ground. I heard her mom say, "she's dead, she's dead!"

On legs made of rubber I pedaled back to my house and ran to my brother. Whenever something was wrong, my brother could fix it. I told him through my tears and anxiety what I had seen and heard. He ran past me to his car where he grabbed this large toolbox (my brother was a volunteer on an ambulance squad in NH). He ran to the spot where Melody lay with her parents. I followed close behind. My mother and Valerie close behind me.

My brother started performing CPR on my friend. I remember looking down at Melody's blonde curls and noticing that her lips were blue. My mother and Valerie were comforting Melody's parents and I stood watching my brother trying to revive my friend. I had no doubt that he would be able to. Ed was my hero. He made everything right.

An ambulance crew finally arrived and took over for my brother. I noticed at that moment that my brother had tears in his eyes. I had never seen Ed cry. He pulled me into his chest and held me tight. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the ambulance pull away with my friend in it.

"She'll be okay, right, Ed?" I asked my brother. He wouldn't answer me.

A few minutes after the ambulance left, Melody's pony arrived.

Melody died that sunny summer day. All her dreams were gone. Later it was pieced together that Melody had been playing "horsie" which included playing with a rope in cowboy boots. She had slipped and accidentally hung herself on the oak tree that we had played under.

Every year at the start of summer, I bring a single yellow rose to her gravesite. I touch the headstone while I tell Melody of my dreams and of my experiences. For a few brief seconds I will hear her laughter and see her blue-blue eyes sparkling at me. "C'mon, Joy, let's go play."


"C'mon, Mom," Charlie cried to me. "Come help me catch one of these fishies." I walked carefully over the slippery rocks to where my daughter played. I kneeled down and gave her a hug. Instinctively, Charlie hugged back. "I love you, Mommy," she sang.

I pray each night that my daughter will stay clear of danger. I know she has a guardian angel, someone who keeps safe and always watches my busy 6-year-old. I know the angel's name, it is Melody.

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. . . and now she also has Ed.

Submitted in loving memory of Ed,

Enchantress~