Donnie was born Donald Bernard Herbert, on November 11/64, in Vancouver, B.C,

Canada. He weighed in at 5lb 8 oz. He was just a little fella...but, he was

wonderful. His brother and sister would hold him and coo over him as if they

owned him. They hated it when I would take him to change, feed and bathe him

They watched in awe as I lifted that tiny little thing into his baby bath. Each would take a turn washing his little hands or feet. I loved all my babies so much and learned from the get-go that you let the older ones help with the baby. And, help they did. But, all was not well, as I thought it was. I had to keep running him in and out of the Doctor's office. He was not holding anything down.

This was a three month trial and error part on the Doctor and my part.

His formula was being changed all of the time and different tests were taken

to find out why he was not gaining much weight. When he was three months

old, I called into the doctors office and told him Donnie was losing too much weight and seemed to be very listless. He was immediately hospitalized. He  weighed only seven pounds. He seemed to drop all the weight over night. When visiting hours were over, the Doctor sent me home and said he would stay with him. At about 10 P.M., he called me and told me that he did not think Donnie would live until morning was forbidden again to be there. I  had another call from a gal who had her baby the same day asking how he was. I told her and she said "It's too bad he didn't have staph like my baby did..  I didn't even know what staph  was. I called the Doctor back and asked if he did indeed have this  problem. He said they didn't check on that because he didn't have a sore bottom which is synonymous with staph. My babies

never had a sore bottom. I figured I wouldn't want to lay around in soiled underwear and so why would my babies have to. I considered sore bottoms to be laziness or neglect on the parents part. He promised he would do that test right away and call me in the morning.  I think I drove the nurses crazy all night with my calls. When I called again at around 7 am, the nurse told

me she was not supposed to tell me, but, he had shown a minute change for

the better, but,cautioned me not to get my hopes up. An hour later the

Doctor called and told me that he did have staff and they were treating him

(since the night before) and there was every sign for a good recovery. In a

few days I brought my baby home with a new formula , mulsoy (not sure of

spelling for that  anymore) Meanwhile his paternal grandmother  was calling

me and telling me that it was all my fault. I called and asked the doctor

what I did wrong with him. He told me it was NOT  my fault, that it was ... if  anyone was to blame, his.

(Bet you'll never hear a doctor say that these days) He said mother in law

was calling his office demanding information on Donnie, but, according to

his nurse, she was so rude, she would not even put her phone number down.

He asked me for the  number..hung up and called her. Told her off, royally.

To this day..she has not apologized.

So, he had a pretty rocky start. He was a delightful little boy.

He loved everyone. He defended another child who was handicapped, and

remained his constant companion until his family moved to another place.

Donnie met and cared for so many people. He had befriended a man who had

lost one arm, but, this man was a skilled skin-diver.

Donnie was so amazed at this man it was unreal.  Another time, he came home with the story of a man who told him he could come there, but he didn't believe in God so Donnie couldn't talk about God anymore. He said he wouldn’t talk to him about God, but, he would pray for him everyday.  And, he did.

Another time, he came home and said 'Boy, that person ( a childhood friend)

sure makes me so mad, I could just kill him. Then he added.  But, God won’t

let me..so I'll have to love him anyway. I always smiled to myself when he

would say these things,because I knew how tender his heart was. He went

around the neighbourhood and helped people in their gardens..or do yard work for the older people. He tolerated the taunts when he would escort a 5 yr old to kindergarten everyday. Because she was East Indian, they were rude and abusive.

Donnie said he didn't mind them teasing him..but, he didn't like them to

tease her.  Donnie loved sports, hiking, adventures, horseback riding. He would stop at neighbours to ask to bring some of their flowers home to me. They always obliged. In the winter, he would make something for me at recess. Just to bring me a gift. When their father and I split up...Donnie was the first to say, it's okay mom. The week following the split, the kids and I moved to a house pretty well on the outskirts. He had made a friend that

had horses. He loved his friend, but I think he loved the horses more. The

first night  in our new home we all slept in sleeping bags on the floors of our rooms. I took the kids to their new school the next day and started to arrange things and clean a house that had been left dirty.

It came time for me to pick them up from school and Donnie was not there.

I was so worried about him. But, I hadn't told him I was coming so he didn't do anything wrong. I drove home with my other children and some of their friends came along because they lived near us. As I was getting out of my car, I heard Donnie calling out to me. I could hear something in his voice that made me aware that he had a problem. Following the sound of his voice, we all looked over at the neighbour's barn and there was Donnie..up in the hayloft and all the cows had come home. He ran up to the loft to escape them. Butch and another boy went over to get him. There were all these huge cows and this one little boy (who had never been really around them) being held hostage  in the loft. When they saw him go into the barn..they thought it was feeding time. After, his rescue, we all had this wonderful chuckle over,

yet another of Donnie's  adventures.

He got to see inside the barn..the hard way!  I told him I would make

his favorite dinner  which was mac and cheese with burger patties. His friend Connie came down on her horse and they went for a ride. He was supposed to be home for dinner and was a bit late..I called his friend's house and her dad said he told them they could ride in the back fields.  I asked that he send him home as soon as they came back.  Dinner was ready and, I continued to sweep up and tend to some unpacking.

There was a knock at the back door and a policeman was there to tell me

my Donnie drown. They had a diver there to retrieve his body from the gravel pit.  It was the same man Donnie had been friends with all along.

He didn't realize it was Donnie until he brought his body out of the water.

I am told he wept like a child when he saw him. I was not allowed to go to the pit. I had to go to the hospital morgue to identify his body.       

My family doctor was there and took me with my friend to the basement.

The walk down the long corridor was without description. When the nurse opened the room, all  that was in there was a couple of folding chairs and a

table against the wall. I didn't even notice the heavy door almost in front

of me,but it was a little to the right. She opened the door and pulled out the stretcher with the sheet covered body. His little hand was showing..I knew that little hand. How many times I had held it, kissed it, washed it, and even smacked it .

I knew my baby's hand. When she pulled back the sheet it revealed my little

boy and I asked why they hadn't washed his face. The Dr. said it was not dirty.. that was when I learned Donnie had his last adventure by telling

Connie he could ride a raft. He jumped onto the raft..catching the edge

which capsized and caused his death. No more ball games on the spur of the moment because Donnie wanted to go..no more would his dog be able to nuzzle him in the early morning to take him for his walk. No more would I be able to laugh with him and cry with him.

He had had his last adventure on earth and now his Greatest adventure with

God was just beginning.

Dear God, I miss him so much. I miss him as if it was yesterday. In grief

there is no time.. it stands still forever, because there is always part of us that wants them back so badly.

I always have and I always will love my third born child.

And, that place in my heart will ever remain empty..for it is his.