Cecil's Story

Cecil's Story1

He came to me in the fourth year of my marriage when I had all but given up having a child of my own. Desperate to give my love to a child, I called Social Services and asked about their foster children program. Little did I know how much this would change my life.2

The background check was done, and I was told that there may be a few days I would have to wait but there were children waiting. I couldn't sleep for several nights because I was so excited about our new child. 3

Within a week I had a call from Social Services with directions to where Cecil was presently living. I was stunned when the woman told me that I was to meet his school bus but not to go to the home of the minister and his wife who now had Cecil. She also said that she would pick up Cecil's things and bring them to my home for him. I just followed directions.4

At nearly 4:00 p.m. the school bus stopped in front of the church and out stepped an adorable blond-haired little boy with such a beautiful face. He looked at me and ran over to my car right away getting in the passenger side and throwing his backpack into the back seat. 5

"Hi. I'm Cecil Holt. Are you my new mom?" I was immediately taken with this boy who so naturally trusted and was so forward. Not a problem with his self-esteem, I thought to myself. 6

I answered as I put the car into gear and drove away. "Well, yes, I suppose I am, Cecil. It's nice to meet you. My name is Patricia Bender, and my husband's name is Barry. You'll see him later tonight around dinner time. Is there anything you need before we go home?"7

He nodded and we chatted all the way home. I showed him his bedroom and bathroom first, and then we set his homework up at the kitchen table. I asked if he would need help, but he said he'd be fine; and he was.8

Cecil's blue eyes fairly sparkled all the time. He was not good in school, but the social worker had said he was 'environmentally retarded.' I figured he'd be just fine with me. I'd show him the love he needed, and that would be all he would need.9

His story was a tragic one. Cecil was born to a woman in a small town in Indiana whos other children were grown but still lived at home. From his birth he was neglected and abused. To see his shiny blond hair and his sparkling eyes, one would never believe what he had gone through in his short ten years. 10

He was only four years old when someone found him over half a mile from home with nothing on but a wet and dirty diaper that sagged past his little bottom and showed most of it. He was climbing into trash cans and finding old food that had been thrown away. Nearly starved and bruised all over, he was taken by a police officer to the social services office and simply dropped off. 11

They put him in a foster home within a few days, and the stories about his family started up. The mother was a drug addicted alcoholic who didn't know who the father was of any of her children. She was currently living with a man who had abused Cecil in the most horrible of ways. 12

Cecil had an older sister named Cecilia who was also considered environmentally retarded. When she had her baby, she didn't know how to take care of it. She allowed it to starve to death in the short weeks after its birth. Cecilia carried the dead child in a blanket for over seven weeks before a police officer found her. She was taken to the state hospital long before I had met Cecil.13

In and out of foster home after foster home, Cecil deserved a place to call home and parents to call Mom and Dad. I hoped to give him that. 14

The social worker had brought a voucher for me so that I could purchase clothes, shoes, a coat and other clothing items for Cecil. I took him the first weekend and bought as much as they would allow me to purchase with the voucher. He was well set with clothes now. It seems that the minister's wife had used Cecil's voucher for her own child, and the belongings the social worker had brought were very meager at best.15

My husband took an instant disliking to Cecil, and he frightened the boy as he barked orders at me and gave Cecil indifferent stares. Already he had made up his mind that he didn't want the child, but I was determined to change that. I wanted to give Cecil the love he deserved, and I wanted to let him know that he had great potential. I helped him study each evening before Barry got home from work, and I'd make sure Cecil had put away his things and straightened his room as well. I knew Barry, who was a drill sergeant in the US Army Reserves, would inspect every detail of the boy's room. And he did.16

Treating Cecil like one of his recruits, Barry yelled at him to sit up, straighten his shirt, get his hair out of his eyes. Cecil mimicked some of the habits I had such as folding my hands in front of me as if in prayer between bites of food. Noticing this, Barry would glare at me as he barked at Cecil for it. My heart cried yet I couldn't show that it affected me. Each night after his bath, I would tuck Cecil into his bed and kiss him goodnight. I knew what I would have to do.17

We'd had Cecil only a few months, through Thanksgiving, Christmas, and beyond the new year, and he had smiled at me and hugged me through all the verbal abuse he received from my husband. I tried to talk to Barry about it, but he refused to listen. He called Cecil names and said he'd never amount to anything. I told him he was wrong, but that I would call and have the social worker find a new home for me.18

On Monday, I did just that. She stopped by our home to find out what the problem was, but I was so hurt by all that had happened that I could not tell her all my husband had put Cecil through. Although he seldom physically punished Cecil, the verbal punishment was more than I could bear. Through everything, Cecil smiled and his eyes sparkled. His blond hair radiated like a halo in the sun. 19

This fine young man had changed my life forever. He had given me insight into his world and made me realize that children with special needs were not so different. They just needed love from someone and they needed to be allowed to love that person back. That's what I had tried to give Cecil, yet I had failed miserably. It would take me fourteen more years to leave my abusive marriage. 20

Cecil Holt found a home some months later, and when I saw him last, I was pregnant with my first child. I recognized him right away, and he turned to smile at me. He knew who I was, and for that I was thankful. He waved bravely as his eyes sparkled at me one last time.