News: The web page is now open
   Last Name:   First Name:
Log In
Advanced Search
Surnames
What's New
Most Wanted
Photos
Histories
Documents
Videos
Recordings
Albums
All Media
Cemeteries
Headstones
Places
Notes
Dates and Anniversaries
Reports
Sources
Repositories
Statistics
Change Language
Bookmarks
Contact Us
Register for a User Account

 Histories


HomeHome    SearchSearch    PrintPrint    Login - User: anonymousLogin    Add BookmarkAdd Bookmark

Start Slide Show   
Loading...

Della's Poem about Heber Guymon

» Show All     «Prev 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ... Next»

Poem about Heber Guymon's childhood diabetes and its effect on his family

Little Heber Boy What’s wrong with my little Heber boy? He’s only eleven years old. He’s always weak and really pale, But he’s being really bold. I guess he was just too tired, when I sent him to gather beans. Because when I found him there, He was in the middle of his dreams. I took him to the doctor, to see if he could treat us. What he told us wasn’t good; He said, “Sugar diabetes”. Phoebe’s only a step mother, but she loves Heber like a son. “Three have already been taken from me, must I lose another one?” On the way home from the doctor’s, Phoebe cried in the wagon. Everyone was depressed. Even the horses feet were draggin’. I didn’t let myself cry, but I knew I couldn’t take much more. He has sugar diabetes, And for that there is no cure. We told his brothers and sisters, but didn’t let Heber know. He was still so young I couldn’t bear to watch him go. For two months he was sick, and spent all day in bed. He was so exhausted, he couldn’t even lift his head. I only have one comfort as I watch my dear son die. That is that his mother and sister will greet him on the other side. He played gently with baby Lucy, And sang he a little song, about a new pair of shoes that the toes had tips on. I had to go into town, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran into my friend George, outside of his store. He said if we ever needed help just to give a holler. He send home with me some copper toed boots, and a shiny silver dollar. Christmas came somehow that year and we had more presents than ever. But I hope that we never face another one like that, never. Heber got worse with every day. It was so hard to see. One night he said, with such sweet grace “I guess now God wants me.” One day we thought it was over, He closed his eyes and said goodbye. But when he opened them again he said, “I didn’t make it, did I?” The next day was when Heber died. He went off with a nod. It’s finally over and for this I thank God. It’s still so hard for all of us. It’s such a bitter pill. We buried him next to his mother, on top of a frozen hill. What’s wrong with my little Heber boy? He’s not acting the way he should. He’s with his mother in Heaven now He’ll be happy and healthy for good. Written by Della Hugo. Inspired by the writings of Lafayette Guymon in his journal. Sept. 30, 1884 to Jan 22, 1885.

Owner/Source  Della Hugo Hill  
Date  added Nov 2009 
Linked to  Heber Columbus GUYMON 

» Show All     «Prev 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ... Next»