I'm writing this post today with a heavy heart.  My youngest nephew, Nolan, died this morning.  He was 27-years old. 

Nolan was the best son, brother, uncle, nephew, cousin, and grandson you could have.  And I mean it.  I know of no other person - who from the day he was born until the day he died - who was as respectful of other people as this young man was. 

In January, my husband and I spent a week in Florida, and were able to spend some quality time with Nolan. 

The following is something I wrote about Nolan last November.  I wanted to share it with you today.

****************************************************************

Ode to Nolan T McIntyre 

When my nephew Nolan was 15 years old, he had open heart surgery. Thank goodness his mother, my sister Connie, had good medical insurance. Many people do not. It was a routine doctor's check-up that discovered the irregularity in his heart beat. Since they live on the other side of the country with no other relatives close by, my sister Doris and I flew to Florida to offer our support.

The surgery went well, and within a day,  Nolan was anxious to get moving. I imagine that's what 15 year old boys must be like. His mom, brother, step-father, a couple of friends, and two aunts spent many hours in his hospital room playing games and making him laugh. But what he really wanted was some fresh air. So a couple of days we took him in his wheel chair down the elevator to an outside courtyard for a picnic lunch. 

Now, this is a very good children's hospital. One of the best in the country. Another wing of the hospital is separated by an underground tunnel. One day, while Nolan was napping, everyone wanted to get something to eat at the other wing. We had gotten tired of the hospital food we had been eating for the past few days. We didn't want Nolan to wake up all alone, so I decided to stay in his room. When he woke up, he wanted to know where everyone had gone. Being 15 years old, he said "let's go find them".

So, I put him in his wheel chair and off we went. Down an elevator, though a darkened tunnel, up another elevator, and across a lobby. When we finally met up with the others, we laughed all the way back to his hospital room.

After about 6 days, Doris and I had to fly home. As we were wheeling Nolan to an elevator, a nurse walked by and asked where we were going. "I'm taking my son downstairs so he can say good-bye to his aunts", my sister Connie said. "Oh, no," the nurse replied "he just had heart surgery. He's not supposed to leave the floor."

Oops.

I'm happy to report that twelve years later, my nephew is happy, healthy and doing well, despite our shenanigans.  

****************************************************************  

On Thursday, we're heading back to Florida for his funeral.

Please pray for my sister and her family.