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.


Monday, August 03, 2009

Life With A Celebrity


Going around Winston with Errol is like being in a rock star’s entourage (I guess).

People I’ve never laid eyes on come up and ask Errol how he’s doing (I always answer for him, which may be a bad habit to get into. Then again, if I perfect my ventriloquism it could lead to some interesting conversations.) Errol is definitely one of the biggest celebrities in town and it's rare we go out without a fan stopping him to say hello. 

Recently, on a trip out of town, we stopped for lunch at a cafeteria. As we snaked through the line towards Errol’s first encounter with Jello (he loved it!) many of the patrons smiled, waved, and stopped to talk to him. As a sweet old grandmotherly woman smiled at him, Errol stared blankly into space. I threw my voice and Errol broke his silence, “What are you looking at you, you old bat?” The woman stared back in disbelief and Errol added, “Heard of Botox, Granny?” Errol smiled sweetly.

OK, so I didn’t really throw my voice. One day.

Back at the cafeteria, as our fellow patrons nodded and smiled, I noticed one older woman who kept wistfully looking at Errol. As she passed us she smiled and said, “He’s special.”

“Yes he is.” I said.

“I had a special boy.” She sighed. Her eyes moistened.

“What was his name?”

“Matthew.”

She looked intently at Errol.

“How old was he when he passed away?” I asked.

“He was 32.”

We looked at Errol. She thought for a moment.

“How old is he?”

“Three.”

“They really are so special.” She said.

“Yes they are.” I agreed.

We looked at each other and I looked at her husband who couldn’t look at Errol. She looked back at Errol and then they were gone.

As we finished our meal, I noticed them sitting a few tables away, not talking, stealing glances at Errol.

The world can be so heavy, but it’s lighter when there are others to share the burden with you. 

1 comment:

Amy Sanders said...

I LOVE this picture of Owen and Errol. And your story, Jonathan. Sending love and prayers your way this week, and hoping for a speedy recovery for Errol.