Tomorrow is Halloween and it's one of my favorite days of
the year. When I was young, the reason was simple – I loved candy, especially
free candy, and Halloween was the one day of the year we could eat as much
candy as possible before going to bed.
I have faint childhood memories of princess costumes and
dressing up as a hobo. Only one childhood Halloween stands out vividly for me –
it was the year a kid jumped out from behind a tree and tried to steal my
candy.
My brother was with me, and we were both shocked when
this kid attacked me, but I held on tight to my pillow case filled with Tootsie
Rolls and chocolate bars.
I'd worked hard for that loot, and there was no way some
hooligan was going to take it away from me. The attack lasted less than 30
seconds, but my brother and I still remember every detail exactly the same over
50 years later.
But that memory pales in comparison to the real reason
Halloween is so memorable for me. My youngest son, Chris, was born on Oct. 31,
1987.
At the time, though, I wasn't so sure having a third baby
so close to the second one wasn't God's trick.
I found out I was expecting our third child while I was
still nursing our second one. I couldn't figure out why I was pregnant, but my
mother, who's a devout Catholic, believed there was a reason.
"Wait and you'll see why this baby at this
time," she said.
I didn't believe her, thinking I'd be wearing maternity
clothes for the rest of my life.
Right before I went into labor, my grandfather was
admitted to the hospital, and my mom flew back home to be with her family.
Henry Eade lived a good life, and he ran successful
businesses. His most lucrative was the Standard Five and Dime Store that
carried yarn, household goods, wallpaper and tools. The biggest calling card
for me was the candy counter.
The Standard Store's candy counter was a child's
paradise. The shelves were packed with boxes of black and red licorice strips,
candy bars, suckers, candy necklaces, bubble gum and baseball trading cards. There
were lollipops, Ice Cubes, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Nestle's Crunch bars and
candy that's no longer made.
My grandfather always gave us a paper bag when we came to
the store and told us to fill it up. Perhaps that's why I have such a sweet
tooth as my candy memories are tied up with my grandfather's generosity.
Henry ran that store until Oct. 30, 1987 when he passed away.
His funeral was held at the same time I was in the hospital having my youngest
son.
I talked to my mom right after Chris was safely in the
nursery. She was still at the funeral home, and she reminded me of our
conversation eight months earlier.
"You wondered why you were pregnant," she said.
"The answer is God doesn't take away without giving us something in
return."
I believe a special angel watches over my son, and we
joke that Henry's doing double duty keeping up with Chris who's an active
father, husband and welder.
Chris, I believe, is somehow comforted, knowing this man
he never met has his back.
And even though Halloween is a mixed blessing for me,
I've always been a little sorry Chris has to share his day with the biggest
candy heist of the year.
Instead of complaining, though, he takes his children trick-or-treating
on his birthday, passing up cake and ice cream for holding his children's hands
as they walk up and down the streets in their neighborhood.
I know there's somebody else walking along with that
family as they go from door to door.
I believe Henry's watching his great-great
grandchildren's trick-or-treat bags fill up with candy laces and bubble gum, the
same goodies he gave his grandchildren so many years ago.
Happy birthday, Chris. You're the best treat I've ever
gotten on Halloween.
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