byTamison Fox Brau,
October 1997 Christmas
Day 1991, my brother's wife of nearly 28 years died in a
Houston hospital. Devastated, our family pulled together
to comfort each other. We didn't dare speak to anyone
outside the family. The mere mention the silent killer's
name marked anyone remotely associated with the disease.
Isolated and alone we tried to be strong knowing the
worst was yet to come. No matter how much we wished
otherwise, it was only a matter of time before my
brother's only child, an adorable seven year-old girl,
would suffer the same fate as her mother.
In our family's darkest hour, I felt as if God had
abandoned us and I was afraid the whole world would do
the same. I prayed for just one angel to step
forward--some truly special person to tell us that no
matter how difficult the world seemed, we didn't have to
face it alone.
The next summer my brother sold his home in Houston,
packed up all his belongings and moved to the small town
in Maryland where his wife had grown up and we had spent
our childhood summers. They settled into a small rent
house in St. Michael's, Maryland, on the Eastern Shore of
the Chesapeake Bay.
My brother decided it was time to go public with
his daughter's disease. When he told me of his decision,
I held my breath. I wasn't entirely convinced the move
was the best thing much less going public. They were so
far away from Texas where I thought I could protect them.
I worried about everything. How would people react? Would
Megan have any friends? Would the community turn their
backs on them? Every night I prayed for an angel to watch
over them and anxiously awaited news from my
brother--hoping against hope that they would be accepted.
My brother called to tell me that things went well. It
seemed an angel appeared, and then another, and another.
Before long, there was an entire legion of angels. And
they didn't come just from St. Michaels. Many came from
the other towns and villages that dotted the coastline in
Talbot County. There were fisherman, carpenters,
teachers, students, boat captains, nurses, secretaries,
shopkeepers, retired folks--all ready and willing to
reach out and take Megan into their hearts.
A year went by and then another. Megan made friends.
There were parties, sleep-overs, and girl talk. They all
knew her secret and it didn't matter. Aside from her
diminishing health and regular trips to Bethesda for
treatments, Megan was like any girl her age. She loved to
cook, do crafts, and spend time with her friends. It
almost seemed as if she were defying the odds. Even the
pediatric specialists at the National Institute of Health
could find no explanation for her continued survival.
She celebrated her tenth birthday and then her eleventh.
Everyone prayed for a miracle, but it was not to be. Soon
Megan's health began to deteriorate. Not even a personal
visit from the President could stop the swift progression
of the disease. In June of 1996, just 12 days shy of her
twelfth birthday, Megan lost her valiant battle with
AIDS. She died at her home in Royal Oak, Maryland,
surrounded by family and friends.
Even as the people poured into the church for Megan's
funeral, plans were underway to keep her memory alive.
That same week the children in her sixth grade class
carried hand painted signs and tributes to Megan as they
marched through the narrow streets of St. Michaels. The
music teacher dedicated the year-end choir concert to
Megan and the kids sang their hearts out bringing tears
to our eyes with "Lean on Me" and "Candle
on the Water." Other events and memorials followed.
This September, over a year after Megan's death, the
Talbot County Hospice sponsored the first annual
"Megan's Cup," a children's funfest honoring
Megan.
Although Megan is gone, the people of Talbot County
continue to lend their support and refuse to let her
memory fade. Without reservation, they opened their
hearts and gave their love to Megan knowing they would
lose her in the end. They asked nothing in return. And
for that I honor them. They are true angels.
Year after year, hundreds of thousands of tourists come
in tour buses, yachts, and cars to Talbot County
Maryland. They come to watch the log canoe races, enjoy
the local seafood, walk among the restored homes, and
visit the historic lighthouse at the Maritime Museum. Few
of them know about the real treasures of Talbot
County--the caring and wonderful people who helped guide
our family through the most difficult days of our lives.
They are my seaside angels and my "Candle on the
Water."
On every visit to "the Shore," I like to walk
along the water by the old lighthouse and watch the
setting sun spill its sparkling rays across the sky onto
the shimmering waves. In those quiet evening hours with
the cool breeze of the angels wrapped around me I can
almost hear the sweet voices of the children's choir.
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