Unlikely Heroes

Thursday I went to a family reunion. Family reunions are not usually something I go to willingly. I'm not really close to my family and they really don't make a lot of social demands. That a good thing, I think. This reunion was for my husband's extended family and I wasn't looking forward to it as small talk isn't my favorite thing to do.

Kathleen was seated by me and was most happy to have an audience as she began to talk and talk and talk. It didn't take long to see that she had some mental challenges. She is about my age and quite sharp at a lot of things, but arrested in some development. She shared with me many facts; she wasn't going to be able to go to the breakfast on Saturday because of a baby shower, she goes to a singles ward for mentally challenged people and likes it a lot, her father would let her help clean, but he didn't trust her to cook, etc. Among the many facts she recited, she told me that her mother had died in February and now she and her dad are alone. Her mother had Alzheimer's for 10 years, so it had been hard for a long time. But she was missing her a lot.

At that point her father came up, a tall, lanky, soft-spoken man named Robert. He smiled at me with soft eyes and turning to his daughter he gently told Kathleen that she had taken up enough of my time. I assured him that I was enjoying getting to know his daughter.

Robert then began to share with me some experiences. He asked if I was aware that I had been talking to his miracle child. I had not. He explained that Kathleen had been a happy baby when she came down with encephalitis and fevered up to 113 degrees. The doctors didn't expect her to make it through the night. Elder Howard W. Hunter, then of the Quorum of the Twelve, was walking past the hospital room when he asked Robert if he would like his daughter to receive a blessing. Robert was happy to accept. Kathleen was blessed that she would live and be a blessing to her family. The fever broke almost immediately, but the results of the illness lingered.

Robert told me that Kathleen hadn't started uttering words until she was 6 years old. It was impossible for the unspoken anguish and labors to not hang between the lines of his story. He said that for three years she would only utter a word here and there. One day when Kathleen was the age of 9, Robert was trying to get her to record her newest word into a tape recorder. He kept prodding her and prodding her, following with the tape recorer until she said boldly, "Dad, leave me alone" surprising the family who didn't know she could string together words. It was the first sentence she had uttered. It was the beginning of many. He smiled gently as he told the story, fondly reliving the memory.

I asked Robert about his wife and he said that the 10 years had been hard having lost her bit by bit. His eyes softened when he talked about her and he said savoring the words, "She was the prettiest little thing."

So here he was right before my eyes, a real life hero. I can't imagine the grueling task of taking care of an ill wife for 10 years only to finally lose her to the grave. I can't imagine the exhaustion of caring for a daughter who is challenged for so many years, first with his wife's help and now going it alone. I can't imagine the fear he must feel at wondering who will care for her when he's gone.

If you had asked me when I walked in the room to pick out a hero, I'm not sure I would have chosen Robert. But heroism is best exhibited silently, slowly, deliberately in the quiet moments of life. Heroes; they are all around us.