Errol Milner Clifford 2006-2009

Errol Milner Clifford was born with a significant heart defect and a cognitive disability that prevented him from walking or talking. As we grieved the child we had anticipated, Errol’s full-bodied smile and irrepressible laugh turned our sorrow into joy, and taught us that many of the best things in life are unexpected. Inspired by Errol’s delightful spirit, friends, family, and neighbors rallied to support our family’s significant emotional, physical, and financial needs, through countless acts of selfless generosity. When Errol’s courageous heart finally failed him on December 23, 2009 we were left numb with grief. In these dark hours we listen hopefully for the echoes of Errol’s brilliant laugh. This blog is the story (starting from present and working back to Errol's birth) of the life and times of the amazing Errol Clifford.


Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Gold Medal!









Errol and Owen go to a wonderful school with great teachers who really care about kids. Sometimes the teachers give me mean looks as I walk past their classrooms in the morning.

Owen is really competitive and the best way to get him to do something is to challenge him.

“I’m going to get to the car first, Owen.”

“No you’re not, Daddy!”

We compete for gold medals in tooth brushing, car entering, and just about everything else we do.

“Owen, I’m going to brush my teeth before you!

“No! I’m going to win, Daddy!”

 Owen wins the gold in every event, and Errol just laughs.

But why do those teachers give me mean looks?

Errol rode horses yesterday at Riverwood and I got to go with him (photos and video coming soon!) 

The Little Man looked sharp as he rode Fritz (German horse?) across the wind-swept plains (riding ring). I remember how excited we got when Errol first flipped from his belly to his back, and here he is, at age three, riding a horse (winning the Derby!)

I took Owen to school this morning. We dropped Errol with his new teachers, Ms. Jennifer and Ms. Paula and raced off to Owen’s class. Errol was in first place as he rounded the bend but I was breathing down his neck. Just like every morning we raced past classrooms and up the ramp towards Owen’s classroom.

 “I’m going to beat you, Owen!” I yelled as I raced behind him.

 “Don’t beat me, Daddy.” Owen said.

The special education teachers heard our yells.

“I’m going to beat you again, Owen!!!”

“Don’t beat me, Daddy!” Owen pleaded

The teachers shook their heads.

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