They spoke in whisper of a curse that befell the family where no son would inherit the mantle.
Silverstone’s wife had given birth to a son after five daughters. Celebration time and all were part of it. No sooner had the celebrations ended, grief struck the family as they huddled into mourning. Littlestone’s son Tom was all of 10 when Silverstone lost his first son to the deadly pox. Tom heard his father say “This storm will pass and it did a few years later when Silverstone’s second and a year later his third son was born.” He lost both sons in rapid succession when Tom was 13 and 14 yrs of age. This left Silverstone a total wreck and he rapidly took to drinks to seek solace from a cruel world. It was this very drink that would consume him.
As Tom walked the funeral route he did find a few detractors who spoke aloud “Thank God He Died”
Come, Ride the storm with Tom, as he tells you about the turbulent winds and raging seas in the life of this man everyone called – Silverstone. This is the journey of an individual who was cursed to lose his sons after 5 daughters, and beget 3 more (daughters). Silverstone was condemned since childhood to Failure. Failing in Health, Education, and all that the world had to offer. The worst part of failure is knowing that you’re not good enough.
Tom’s plan was to walk the entire route from the residence to the public cemetery when he heard the elder daughter say, “He was good for the family.”
People’s memories are short. They forget what a mess they were in. It was Uncle ‘Littlestone’ who had done it all for them.
“Younger brother Littlestone handled all his idiosyncrasies. Tuberculosis was the dread, and Silverstone got infected with it. Littlestone had his wife sent to her mother’s home to deliver Tom, when the doctor’s informed him of his brother having contracted the disease.
Even when the breakers and waves crash there is hope, an anchor, that when grasped will save from the darkest and deepest moments. Not only does the anchor save, it brings life and light in the darkness so much so that we know we won’t be wanting.
Silverstone was given another lease of life through the watchful care of his brother Littlestone. A year later having recovered, he was back to work. Come evenings, Littlestone had a small enterprise which he would work in. As the enterprise grew, the plans were to shift base to their hometown. While a nephew was chosen to head the new enterprise, Silverstone insisted he head the same. For accommodation he wanted Littlestone’s share of the family home- ‘Stone Villa’, which was also obliged to.
As the procession entered the rear of the cemetery, sitting on the steps, was a bearded homeless gentlemen with what looked like a rag bag and a bottle of liquor. After a quick internal debate over the ethics of interviewing the potentially befuddled, Tom figured it was worth the risk. If you can’t rely on a homeless drunk who was his companion for long, who can you?
Tom tells him: “People say, ‘This is your best friend’s funeral, so why are you drinking?’
And the tramp replies, ‘Because it’s about respect. Drink brought us together. I want to drink more now to ensure this bond does not break’”
By now the wind has died down, the sun is shining and all is calm. There are still no mourners. As Tom turns and prepare to retrace his steps, he thinks, ‘Maybe this is the calm all waited for.’