Thank you Julia for the reminder of plectrums - guitar plectrums a regular visitor to Willies pockets. He would take it out and show you on his opened hand...inviting you to admire it with the same enthusiasm he felt. I am surprised I had forgotten such a favourite pocket treasure, just shows how much of the small detail goes missing from your mind. It's great that so many of you are reminding me by your own memoires...thank you and keep them coming.
The plectrum was very much connected to his deep love of all things instrumental - especially the guitar. I have many pictures in my mind of him strumming away to some music on his small guitar, or watching and listening to anyone who could play a good tune. Again jumping ahead, his jamming sessions with a guy called Jason from Church, both of them sitting on his bed, guitars in hand strumming a made up tune - pure Heaven watching them.
Music is accessible to those who are totally blind, and Willie proved this over and over as he 'felt' his way round the strings of his half size guitar. He never had a lesson, he was never taught the notes but by sense, hearing and feeling he could play beautiful music. Those last weeks felt like a pre-Heaven programme designed by a God for a very special and fulfilling journey into eternity. I continue to Praise God for His awesome provision throughout Willies entire life, and especially the last few weeks.
When Willie was four years old my eldest son Simon had written 'The wee and pooh song' for GCSE music. The teacher wasn't overly impressed, but it was a real favourite of Willies. The perfect lyrics. Shortly after one of the many operations he endured, he was sitting on a child's green plastic garden chair, on our decking listening to Simon singing 'the song - eventually renamed 'Willies song'. Willie had his hair shaved from the front to halfway across his head. The recent scar still red with thirty odd stitches intact - ran from one ear over the top of his scalp and down to the other ear. As Simon played and paused at appropriate words - in full animation, Willie literally almost laughed his head off. Zoe took a video on her phone (sadly phones in those days didn't have the quality of today) but replaying that video was heartwarming watching him throwing his head backwards and forwards guffawing loudly, saying "again, again.." As soon as the song ended.
One of my most profound discoveries of God's provision was 'buskers'. Buskers came in all shapes and sizes..and they came in abundance. My first experience of this overwhelming gift to Willie began in Oxford City centre. In the early days of recovery in between several operations that followed the
big one, we would venture from the Radcliffe Infirmary into the City - about 15-20 mins walk on short legs (mine). Willie would be in his pushchair for our adventure whilst Zoe caught up on much needed sleep or to have some quality time with Rheanna if she was visiting.
Often we would call in to the big Catholic Church almost adjacent to the hospital. It was always open and warm...we ventured in whispering as people knelt and prayed at the pews..maybe one or two people dotted around. As I had a dear Catholic friend I was familiar with lighting candles and praying for others.
Willie would get out of the pushchair and we would take a candle and place it on the metal tray. We would post the donation money in the box and then careful light it. We prayed for his mum, dad and Rheanna. We prayed for his tumour to get better, and that he wouldn't have pain. Recalling these precious moments I have tears streaming down my face and an intense desire to be there once again in that beautiful huge building with stain glass windows, cherubs, and statues of Jesus Christ. Those moments were indeed treasured moments. Those that knew Willies inability to be interested in kneeling and keeping still would have watched in awe.
Although Willie was used to me praying...we often prayed to Jesus for a busker to be performing on the way to the shops...as well as the big ones before an operation. I never got heavy with the religious side, mostly because Willie didn't tolerate heavy and serious subjects, that didn't involve the odd mention of a drill. Yet in this peaceful place ..he was happy to stop and light the candles, pausing to pray. He was quiet and reflective praying to Jesus for those he loved. His faith was increasing as his operations increased. I will write the next blog about the operation that went horribly wrong...and when I believe Willie met Jesus face to face. That was when I believe his personal faith journey truly began.
We would leave the candles burning as we continued on our way, quietly respecting others deep in prayer. Onto the beautiful city centre with its old architecture buildings, the old style blending happily with the new. Quaint shops next to huge department stores, street traders in abundance. Pedestrianised areas allowed people to mill about easily. Some evidently rushing in their lunch hour dressed in 'office attire', middle aged daughters happily shopping with their elderly mothers heading to one of the many coffee shops, tourists With their little guide book and camera at the ready, students on bikes parking them alongside the other 50 or so in one of the many designated places. So many people, and us...young boy with brain tumour, crazy lady weaving him in and out of the crowds until we found 'the busker'.
And we always found one much to Willies delight. It was not important as to what instrument he was playing ( I'm fairly certain they were all male) or what genre of songs he sang. It was the busker experience itself Willie loved. We would stop as close as we could depending on the crowds gathered around. As people wandered off we would move in until we had front row status. Willie would watch and listen in awe. Sometimes they had unusual instruments like a selection of African wooden pipes or a homemade instrument - but mostly his favourites - a keyboard or guitar.
We would watch for an hour at least, often Willies enthusiastic clapping and beaming smile enticed the performer over for a chat -.Willie would have lots of questions about the instruments and was
delighted when the busker handed him an instrument to join in. The joy of Buskers - if you know one or are indeed one yourself be assured that for many who walk on by - there are so many touched by your music. Long live Buskers! One day we were entertained for so long we went and bought the busker a McDonalds meal...to show our appreciation (Think that day I had no cash for Willie to throw into the cap..so used my card to pay for for dinner for him instead lol)
After a ten minute warning - we would reluctantly leave and head back to the hospital...Willie ringing on his imaginary phone 'da,da,da ( this was a mix between da and der but punchy like der. Der. Der.as he 'dialled the number' )
"Jesus" he said clearly and of course in my best Jesus voice I replied.."Yes Willie?" ..."Thank you so much for sending the busker" he said sweetly. "That's ok Willie, I'm glad you enjoyed him."
I can honestly say every time, yes every time we prayed for one, wherever we were...we would meet one. In Oxford or in Newbury...sometimes Reading...EVERY time. Since Wille got his wings I think I have only come across 2 or 3 at the most over the past few years... I am more than convinced God provided them, sometimes I reflected they may have been angels in disguise. But most certainly a huge Blessing from above. Amen to that!
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