callmeloquacious

It was the summer after I turned six. My dad was offered a job transfer, and he accepted. My family made the long trip from Texas to Northern Indiana. It was then that we met the Holyfields.

It is interesting how our memories change over time. They become hazy. We fill in with pictures and stories that others share. What hasn’t ever changed are the feelings that I always had for Clayton. I remember always wanting to be by him. (Mama Betty, Clayton’s mama, has pictures to prove it!) I was certain as a little girl that he was the one I was going to marry.

I was 8 when the Holyfields moved from Indiana to Arkansas. I mourned in quiet, begging God to bring Clayton back because I was supposed to marry him.

We saw the Holyfields periodically over the years. We would stop by and visit on our trips to Texas. We would see them when they visited Indiana. Karla (his sister) and I became writing buddies. I would lament over her brother, and she would tell me one day I’d be her sister. Over time though, the visits stopped. And we grew even older.

God must have a sense of humor, because many (many, many) years later, he did bring Clayton back. Through a bizarre series of events, I reconnected with Karla, and then Clayton. Nine months later we were married.

We wanted a family. When Clayton was younger, he was in a serious four-wheeler accident. Due to the accident, and the medication he was required to take, he was told that he could not have children. We were nothing but elated when we found out I was pregnant. Unfortunately, 12 weeks into the pregnancy I lost the baby.

That was a moment unlike anything I had ever experienced. We prayed and asked God to give life to the little person that I had been carrying, but it was not to be. Our little babe went to heaven the week after Mother’s Day, 2017. But God showed up, as always. Providing me with comfort and peace, but I still mourned the loss of my first baby.

It was only a few months later when we found out that Clayton had thyroid cancer. Typically, thyroid cancer is totally treatable so while the news was disappointing, we worked to remain positive. Clayton underwent several surgeries to remove the cancerous thyroid. He then had the typical radioactive treatment that goes along with it. At the same time, right around the date I was to have our first baby, I found out I was pregnant with our second.

This is not easy to write. Of course, there are months and months of things that I am leaving out. Months of fun and traveling. Becoming a mama to a beautiful boy. Having bonfires in the back yard and eating veggies from our garden.

It was a year after Clayton’s surgery that he had an additional test to confirm if he was cancer free. We sat in the doctor’s office, knee to knee waiting for the news. The doctor, opened the door a little and said, “the test was positive.” The door closed just as quickly. Not knowing if “positive” meant good news or otherwise, I opened the door and asked for clarification.

“Positive,” she said. “He still has cancer.” She continued walking down the hallway after that. The nurse came in a moment later with a box of Kleenex, and she sat with us as we cried and discussed next steps. This was in January. Soon after the appointment, he went through another round of the radioactive iodine treatment.

In April we visited Arkansas and celebrated his parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, and shortly after we found out I was pregnant.

A few weeks later, early in the morning on May 17th I woke up, and Clayton was non-responsive. Hunter, fortunately, was at my aunt’s house. I called my mom and then called 911. My heart was beating so hard my whole body was pulsing. I couldn’t tell if Clayton had a pulse or if it was my own heart beating through my fingertips. In a matter of minutes, everything changed. Clayton was gone, passing away in the night. The music stopped that day

The next week was a blur. I was driven places. Given what to wear. My hair was fixed for me. Decisions were made. I watched old 90s tv shows, like “Murder She Wrote.” We celebrated the life of one who loved Jesus. In the middle of the heartbreak, I imagined Clayton in heaven, playing pranks with Peter and the other disciples. I held onto the image of him whole and well.

I met God in a new way. I have known Him my whole life, but never before had I felt such deep felt agony and then such comfort and peace.

We celebrated the life of my Clayton over the next week. First in Indiana, and then in Arkansas. There was music and balloons. Pictures. Stories. Songs. And while we mourned, we celebrated that this one man told so many about Jesus. On earth he was sick, but in heaven he was whole and well. He was also with Jesus, the One he worked so hard to serve.

Fast forward nearly six years. February 2025. My babies are all asleep (finally!). All recovered from the sickness. Laundry is being washed. Things are being organized and put away. I have everything I ever wanted. We live near and with our parents, including my Holyfield family. Honey’s family, (aka Ricky) along with mine and the Holyfields have become one larger family. My boys all have three sets of grandparents who love them and spend time with them. Each set claiming all four boys as their own. My life is perfectly ordinary and wonderfully exquisite.

And I try, although I don’t always succeed, I try to enjoy the everyday moments. The tiny human snuggles. The giggles. And Honey, who is a gift from God, will often pull me close to dance with him, in the middle of the most chaotic moment.

The music plays.