I’ll never forget that phone call just before 8:00 am the morning of April 16, 1993. I was a 3 month newlywed. My husband had already gone to the TV studio to do work for his broadcast communications degree that he was finishing up that last semester in college. Getting ready to hop in the shower before heading out for work, I was surprised to hear the phone ring that early in the morning. Perhaps my husband had forgotten something and needed me to run it by the studio.

Not so. The voice on the other line was broken, barely audible. But, I still heard the words.

A family friend called to share, “Ryan died.”

I was confused. “What? What do you mean?”

The friend said through sobs, “Ryan died this morning.”

Still in shock, I needed more information, “What is going on? What happened? Where are Brett and Kandi?”

The call continued a few more minutes…enough for me to know that something had happened to the heart of our little 8-year-old nephew, Ryan, and he was now in Heaven. My husband’s brother, wife, and their 2 children (Brett, Kandi, Ryan, and Brandi) were very special people to us. We spent a lot of time with Ryan and Brandi, and to think that he was gone was something I couldn’t even conceive of at that moment. I knew we had to get to Durham, where they lived…immediately.

We drove up the next day. I didn’t know how I was going to handle this. I was a young twenty-something. I had faced death before, but the death of a child – that we dearly loved – was new to me. God had allowed Ryan and his little sister Brandi to be really involved in our lives, and they were absolutely precious to us. How would we be able to comfort Brett and Kandi and little Brandi now? We, too, were grieving.

We walked up their sidewalk, and the first person we ran into was Kandi’s mom, Beverley. We stopped and hugged and sobbed together. That’s all we could do…no words…just tears and hugs. That soon followed by seeing Brett and Kandi for the first time since receiving this devastating news. I’ll never forget the looks on their faces and they were so strong in those early days. Their strength obviously came from God Himself. Then…little Brandi. She was only four. So young…so confused…but so sad. She watched her brother die, and I know those images have been forever etched in her mind.

We later learned that Ryan died from complications due to Ehlers-Danlos Synodrome and suffered a large tear in his aorta. After walking through those early years of grief with Brett and Kandi, I never dreamed that they would be THE people that God had been preparing to walk alongside me so closely following Chris’ death last May. I have never forgotten the day Ryan went to be with Jesus. Even now…19 years later…his little 8-year-old face still pops into my head, as I remember April 16, 1993. He was the first person I thought of after hearing Chris went to Heaven. I’m sure they became fast friends and fishing buddies!

I miss you Ryan! You’ll never be forgotten little man!