A tribute from his mother - Heather Houk

Eli is my hero. He taught me about strength; both of body and spirit. He taught me patience and perseverance and how to fight when my body is weak - all with a quiet dignity and peace. I have never known anyone that could handle such adversity and be so content with life - always offering a little smile.

I wish you all could have known Eli in person. Even though he only lived for a short time in this plane I know he touched all of us in one way or another. I loved watching the doctors and nurses and other friends he made at the hospital beam when they came to see him. We all marveled at his sweet face and strength as he fought so hard against the many challenges in his tiny body.

Eli wasn't alone in his journey; he shared six months in the womb with his twin brother Adam Gabriel. Adam was also a remarkably strong fighter with his own challenges of being born before his little body was ready. I wish we had gotten to spend more time with Adam, he was truly beautiful. I imagine that Eli is the only one that really got to know Adam as his roommate and I hope they are together now, still kicking at each other.

I know there is a temptation to rationalize when someone dies; that the struggle was too great, it was God' will, he was only meant to be here for a few months - I would ask all of us to focus instead on the gift Eli brought to our lives. He challenged the doctors to try harder, he taught the nurses it is ok to get attached to their patients, he taught us that you can be fragile and weak and that it is ok to ask for help and lean on others for strength. He taught me to be an advocate when he didn't have a voice yet. None of this can be rationalized away as part of someone or something else's plan. I don't think any God would want a child to suffer, it just happens and we can choose whether or not to be better for going through adversity and Eli makes me want to be better.

It was an honor for me - for us - to be Eli's parents and it is important for me to have you all get to know this little man. For someone who couldn't speak or even cry out loud Eli said volumes with his curious eye brows, his sweet smiles or furrowed brow and his firm grasps on my fingers or kicks against Wayne's hands and especially with his contagious smiles. I miss him beyond measure but I know we made the right decision. As we held Eli and started to say our good byes he opened his eye and stared at me and let me know everything would be ok and I have to trust that it is and will be.

The plants and tree saplings that were available at Eli's memorial service to everyone were meant for them to plant in their own garden as a reminder of Eli and Adam that life is to be shared and enjoyed everyday. All of the plantings were from around our house and creek and were harvested by our family. We harvested a wide variety of plants because we are all different and have different desires but the same need to survive and grow. After our daughter Hope died Wayne and I planted an apple tree in our yard and we affectionately call it our Hope Tree and we feel joy knowing something of her lives on. Doug Hulmes shared this poem with me about the tradition of planting a tree in the memory of a loved one...

The Old Guardian Tree
Gunnar Arnborg

When life's struggle is heavy and severe I remember, my home, farm yard's peace and tranquility. My memories of the old trees' beauty and care surround my old body and take me back to my childhood. I dash there and summersault beneath the shade deep and cool, I rest out in the homes' peace and listen to the trees talk.

Everything is so quiet. The wind blows through the old tree stirring the branches. It sighs gently, half in dream, I hear their whispering. And their speech be as a story of how generations struggled fought and suffered, and grew up under its protection, and lie there in the graves below.

We miss you Eli, thanks for stopping by...

 

 

A TRIBUTE FROM A FRIEND

 

                                                               A Tribute from a friend - Tricia Goffena-Beyer

I've know Heather for...?? I don't even know how many years. I thought to myself that I should really think about that and be ready to stand up here and give you a number...7...8...10. But when I thought about it, all I could think was, what does the passing of time matter between freinds? Love is not measured in the passing of time.

For years, I have watched Heather and Wayne in their struggle to have a child. I've celebrated their successes, grieved their disppointments, offered a sympathetic ear and open arms, made soup. I've supported, encouraged, and questioned. I've watched Heather endure procedures that most people would think twice about, even to save their own lives...let alone in an attempt to make a new life. And through it all, Heather remained positive, funny, bossy, and determined in her desire to become a mother. And beside her, always, heping, and enduring his own pain, her friend and partner in life, Wayne. It has been on of my many gifts that through this process, I've come to know Wayne better, and to witness the incredible bond they share.

We all had high hopes when Heather was successfully pregnant with twins, Adam and Eli. We rallied around, keeping in touch with her by phone, us at our desks and Heather lounging on her sofa...for days on end. While we joked about being jealous, about needing to keep her legs elevated...and crossed, I could never imagine choosing to give up my freedom and mobility, at least not without complaining loud and long to anyone who would listen. But Heather never complained -- she was only so grateful to have these babies.

Since those days of phone calls from the couch and occassional lunches where we admired Heather's beautiful glow, I have often wondered about this world we live in where two people as wonderful and deserving as Heather and Wayne have endured such unexplainable sorrow in their desire to have a child of their own.

When Adam, Eli's twin brother, was born on May 29, we never had the chance to get to know him. Heather and Wayne themselves only had a short time in which to hold his tiny body. There is no doubt that he was held in loving arms, if only for a moment. Then, on June 15, along came Eli. Eli was a fighter. What he lacked in physical size was made up for in his amazingly strong spirit. I never met Eli, but I feel that I know him as surely as I know my friends Heather and Wayne. Through long phone converstions with Heather in which she increasingly psoke in the language of a seasoned neonatal intensive care nurse, the news of little Eli's birth was passed -- news of his struggles, his good days, the scary days, the hopeful days, his challenges and his victories. And as the news passed from one to another, Eli's circle of angels grew wider and wider...and we prayed, lit candles, shed tears, comforted each other, talked to whoever it is out there in the universe we believed in who might be able to work a miracle. We sent caring thoughts, cards, gifts, prayer flags, and good vibes...Each of us prayed in our own ways of healing, peace, and comfort for this tiny boy and his parents.

I suppose it serves no purpose to question why, and yet I have no doubt that mamy of us do so anyway. I believe we can find as many, or as few, answers as we choose. But in the end, there is no explaining the death of a child before his parents. Ther is no logic, no reasoning, no comoft in words. As a parent, this is the most unimagineable fear. And this is a fear that Heather and Wayne lived with for almost 11 weeks, and then realized when Eli slipped quietly from their arms.

Though Eli was tiny, and his time on earth short, the impact of his life ripples out among us like the rings from a stone cast into still water. He made us put a bad day in perspective, hug our loved ones just a little closer in our arms. He made us feel things we would rather not feel, made us face fears we would rather avoid, he made us laugh a little easier, cry a little easier, say "I love you" a little more often.

And most of all, he gave his parents, Heather and Wayne, the gift of knowing the power of unconditional love. And this is a love strong enough to transcend life itself, a love that will life for as long as he is held in their hearts. Eli's time in his parents arms was far too short, but loved is not measured in the passing of time.

Prayer for Those Who Suffer

For those who suffer,

and those who cry this night,

give them repos, Lord;

a pause in their burdens.

Let there be minutes

where they experience peace

not of man

but of angels.

Love them, Lord,

when others cannot.

Hold them, Lord,

when we fail with human arms.

Hear their prayers

and them the ability to hear You back

in whatever language they best understand.

Margaret A. Davidson