A Tribute to Johnny

Today, March 1, is my brother, Johnny’s, birthday. I’m not sure how old he would be today, but I’m thinking that he would be 69. I never knew my brother- he died of pneumonia when I was ten months old- but I’ve always felt very close to him, and I give him all the credit for my appearance on this earth.

Johnny was a Downs Syndrome child- a Mongoloid- as I was told as a child. Johnny never knew his baby sister. When I think about the family dynamics in play at the time, in the 1940s, and the decisions my parents had to make about their handicapped son, I feel a deep pain in my heart for them and for my family. A decision had to be made about my special brother as he became school age. At that time, there were no public school programs or government assistance for special needs children and their families. It was even unacceptable for my parents to take Johnny out in public. But there was Gracewood, an institution in Georgia for the mentally retarded. This is where Johnny went to live. I am sure my parents’ hearts were torn to shreds with having to do this, but they had three healthy children at the time who needed their love and attention, and I’m sure Johnny and his needs were draining them physically and emotionally. I still remember my mother telling me stories about taking Johnny to Gracewood, and my brothers and sister have filled in some of the gaps for me in revealing to me what life was like for them as children with Johnny in their midst.

After Johnny left our home to live at Gracewood when he was seven years old, there was a void and sadness in our home, I’m sure. This was when my parents decided that another baby in the family might help fill the void and ease the pain. They also wanted my sister, Molly, who was a little over a year younger than Johnny, to have a normal baby sister or brother. This was when Mama became pregnant with me. I believe that it must have been a huge relief to them when I entered the world a healthy baby girl. I didn’t replace Johnny in the family, but I know that I must have brought joy into our home. And, when Johnny died during my first year, I'm sure the baby in the family was a comfort to my parents and siblings.

Many times over the years, I’ve wondered what my purpose in life is, and I’ve searched for meaning in my life. When I think about my brother, Johnny, I begin to see that my purpose was simply to be born, and I thank my special brother for the gift of my life.

Everything else in my life is a bonus.