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
In memory of
Evan Phillip Rubin
son, brother, uncle and
friend
April 28, 1963- August 1, 1996