Evan and Ian

By Risa Spieler Rubin

When I was born he rocked me

in my chair

I had my little fingers in his

mouth and his hair

He pushed me on a swing

up so high

I felt as though I could

touch the sky.

He would make me laugh with

the stories he would tell.

I can still remember his voice

so well.

At the movies, the popcorn we

shared was always a treat

I always cuddled on his lap

on his seat.

At the zoo I held my balloon

as he walked with his cane,

as we passed by the lion with

the long mane,

We sat on a bench so Evan

could rest.

as long as I was with him it

was the best

My parents told me that Evan

was sick with H.I.V.

but as long as he wanted to

he could play with me.

One day, mommy and daddy

told me he had died.

What did that mean and how

come they cried?

As time went by I started to

understand about Evan.

what I learned is he had gone

to a nice place called heaven.

seventeen years have flown by

 this is true

like day and night that starts

anew

A young boy I was but a

  memory of

Uncle Evan lives in me

There isn’t a day I don’t think

about him

his face and smiles are within

I remember his voice like a

song in my head.

his warm hugs and smile I

think of instead.

Life will go on, though he is

out of my sight.

He will forever be a

flickering light

In memory of

Evan Phillip Rubin

son, brother, uncle and

friend

April 28, 1963- August 1, 1996