God granted a gift of a second baby boy to our family when Patrick was born. As he grew, he did all the normal things little boys like to do. When he learned to ride a bike, he would look down at his feet on the pedals. That would usually cause him to run into something like a parked car.

His first day of kindergarten, my mother thought he would love school, but there he stood on the sidewalk outside our house crying. He kept going though, doing his best. I remember his eight grade graduation. He was so happy. His friend, Lester, had come to see him graduate.

All along, Patrick kept growing so tall and strong, a young man with so much potential. He loved all his sisters and brothers. I know this because of the affection he was always showing us, like giving hugs and kisses. He showed his love for Rudy, my son, by playing football with him and buying him Pogs. My baby, Jordan, would love his uncle to pick him up, kiss him and sniff him because he smelled so sweet.

I was only 11-years-old when Pat was born. He was such a cute, chubby baby and a joy to us all. He had a little teddy bear given to him from our uncle Gil, which Pat named Choppy. He took Choppy with him everywhere.

I am happy that we had our Pat for 25 years, though it passed so fast. He was one heck of a brother, one in a million. He is at peace now with God, our Father, Jesus and all the angels in heaven.

I will forever remember his sweet face and voice as I think of him. I won't say goodbye to you Pat, but so long 'til we meet again in the special place that God has for us.

I love you, Patrick, now, forever and a day!

Della Jean Sherman Silva