When I was first born, we had neighbors whose backyard met up with ours. Steve and Diane Shelton had 3 children (David, Kim, and Nicole) who were close in age to my brother and me. I spent many, many days and nights at the Shelton house and my memories are now such treasures.
Back Row: David and Chad (my brother)
During my dad’s battle with melanoma, while I was just a small child, the Shelton house became a safe haven for me. My dad had always been unbelievably strong in my eyes. Yet, suddenly he was having surgeries, skin grafts, and chemo treatments. He went from a strapping mid-thirties year old man who would take us on long bike rides to a fragile shell of a man who could barely walk to the corner of our street (and we were only the second house in). Cancer absolutely ate him alive and my brother and I watched the inevitable process take place.
Over a period of 4 years, there were times that I felt very uneasy around my Dad. I didn’t know what to do with my apprehensions and emotions. Many days were too much to bear. So, I would walk through my backyard to the Shelton’s house. I was always welcomed with open arms and was treated like a member of their family. Diane and her husband, Steve, would help me process through things in an age-appropriate way by asking simple questions: “How is your dad today? How are things at your house?” And I knew I could say as little or much as I needed to (though I’m sure I rarely said much). I was shown so much love and compassion which made an unbearable situation become just a little more bearable.
At the Shelton house, I always got lost for hours in imaginative play. Kim, Nicole, and I would escape to our imaginary worlds as we set up pretend hospitals, played school, entertained ourselves with Barbie dolls, or anything else our young minds could dream up. I remember a time when Diane brought home leftover envelopes, letterhead paper, “While You Were Out” pads, rubber bands, tax forms, pens, and so on from a tax service where she temporarily worked. `She carried home boxes of these leftover office supplies with us girls in mind. For weeks on end, we did very important work as we filled out various business forms with our fancy looped handwriting that we called cursive. We “mailed” envelopes, wrote checks, and took phone messages. This captivating, lifelike world became a place of solace for me when my reality was extremely sad and grim.
The night of my dad’s visitation (or wake/viewing, depending on where you live), I remember standing in the back of the chapel at the funeral home with Diane and my mom. I was only 7 years old and felt completely lost in a world of grief. My heart was racing and my stomach felt queasy. I had seen my mom cry enough tears and I didn’t want to see her cry another, so I had to make my visit quick. I stood upon the tiptoes of my black patent leather shoes in the back of the room gazing over the rows of pews that separated me from my daddy’s casket. I caught a quick glimpse of him laying at the head of the room in his dark blue casket. I had never seen so many flowers altogether in one place. He was obviously a very loved man. In his hands was a light green piece of paper folded in half to make a card with the words, “Get Well Daddy” written in crayon. It was a card I had made for him at school one day during my free time. The quick peek had been almost too much to bear, so I quickly looked up at Diane and said, “I’m ready to go.” I gave my mom a quick hug and then escaped the dark, somber room with Diane by my side.
The last 35 years have clouded many of the memories in my mind, but I know that upon leaving the funeral home, Diane took me back to the Shelton home, which had become my home away from home. My solace. My place to escape from the pain felt at my house. I know that I was loved on patiently by an amazing lady who became a second mom to me.
Diane, you will never know how much my time with you shaped me into who I am today. I’ve only scratched the surface of all of my years of memories with you. You were our neighbor for 10 years in 2 different neighborhoods. I will always remember the loving atmosphere that your home provided, the hundreds of sleepovers I had with Kim and Nicole, the cinnamon rolls on Saturday mornings, playing in Steve’s fishing boat in your garage, banging on your piano, curling up on your couch to watch movies, and the list goes on and on and on. Most importantly, I will never forget the unconditional love that your family gave me at an intensely crucial time in my life. I love you.
And, Steve, just because this was written for Diane does not take anything from you. I will never forget your gentle, calm presence. Thank you for always making me feel loved and cherished. I’m so thankful that God knew exactly what I needed when he put you in my life so many years ago.
And now for my dear readers: Who had a huge impact on you as a child? Who opened their home to you and showed you unconditional love? Who spent time with you and helped make you the person you are today? Don’t wait! Send that person a card, give them a call, send them a text, send them flowers, take them out to lunch, or make a simple video on your phone. Let them know how they’ve impacted you. And then be sure to post about it on our Facebook page. Don’t wait until it’s too late!
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