Aunt Roz called it right!

She saw Enoch and she said, look at "Sonny". Sonny used to be up under Mu, just like that. He was 5. I think, I was a little offended that she was comparing him to Sonny, who had been dead for 50 years already. That was her baby brother and I tolerated her Sonny stories that followed. We had come to show the older ladies the baby and listen to them in the hospital rooms.
She said, the rest of us were out on dates and going to the dances and enjoying life and Sonny would leave the dance and say I am going home to check on Mu. How are you, mom? is the constant question. Somehow these precious momma's boys are very aware of mothers' frailty and the fact that she could be gone in a heartbeat. I don't know how Mu lived past Sonny's death. Hearts that intertwine like that only God can heal. She lived many years past Sonny. The aunties, Grandma Ruth, Uncle Charles and Aunt Helen kept it going with the stories and the loving remembrances of the 106 that we children never got to see.
This morning my "Sonny" followed me in prayer all over my living room and I remembered what Aunt Roz said. He is like Sonny, not a soldier, but a sensitive soul, with the love of his mother in tow. As though he carries my weights with him. I must remind him that I have one God who carries my soul and that his soul is not strong enough to carry me and himself. That's what Mu didn't tell Sonny. She was never the same and didn't get out of the bed for an entire year after he died of sclerosis of the liver from his alcohol after the war.
Prayer doesn't have that effect on the body, thankfully!