Zeb’s Story Continued
It was on Easter of 1991 that Zeb was admitted to the ICU. I remember being in the car with my dad and two older brothers who were 13 and 11 years old at the time and I was almost 9. My dad turned around and asked us if we understood what was happening to Zeb and in gentle fatherly words made sure that we knew the severity of the situation and that we may have to say our goodbyes. We knew. This was the hardest part for me. Zeb was the most fun loving energetic boy you would ever meet and it pained me to see my brother, my best bud, laying lifeless on his back in that cold sterile room. The Zeb I remember was often in overalls, he had a broad smile with big dimples, and was barefooted any chance he got.
But in the ICU he became swollen and they had to lay extra large tshirts over his body instead of dress him because of all the tubes that he was hooked up to. We still stuck together through it all. I remember reading to him The Runaway Bunny and stroking his forehead, because even though he couldn’t respond much, he seemed to appreciate the tender touch. In April of 1991 I was called out of my second grade class to the school office. When I arrived and saw my parents and brothers with red eyes full of tears I pretty much knew what was going on. My dad told us that Zeb had passed away the night before. I remember him telling us that our ultimate goal was to get to heaven to see Jesus, but that now we have even more to look forward to. Shortly after that we moved onto a large auditorium where they made the announcement to the entire student body of our tight knit private school. Of course people pulled together to support our family, and we felt love coming from every direction. Some ladies bought me a beautiful new dress to wear to the funeral. It’s hard to believe that was 20 years ago. There has been a lot of grieving and different stages of processing, but I feel like as a family we’ve grown closer to each other and closer to God. I will never know why my little brother had to leave us at such a young age, what I do know is that we will not take for granted having such a sweet loving boy as a part of our family. We will never forget the seven precious years that we had with him here on this earth and lastly we rejoice in knowing we will see him again.

My little brother Zeb had bug bites, which is no big deal for an active toddler living out in the country. The problem was that they didn’t go away, so my mom decided it wouldn’t hurt to have it checked by a doctor. They did some blood work and on September 9, 1987 Zeb was diagnosed with Leukemia. I didn’t move onto first grade the next year and now I can understand why, but being held back was something that I would feel ashamed of throughout a good part of my childhood. The next 2 ½ years of my life were spent staying with friends, family, and various church members off and on because my parents were at the hospital so often throughout Zeb’s chemotherapy. I hated staying with other people, and I hated having blood drawn. The nurses at the hospital tried holding me, but I distinctly remember kicking screaming and eventually protesting to the point that they had to strap me down. But despite how I make it sound things weren’t so bad. I liked the hospital. We had lots of friends there. The Doctors and nurses were so nice and one of them loved to challenge me at Tetris on the rec room computer. To this day I can still take anyone at Tetris, it’s the only video game I am good at. We would also have therapy with a counselor at the hospital, but I didn’t know that’s what it was until later. I called her Linda the play lady and I just had a great time coloring and writing and spending time with my brothers. 
















