Ewan’s art is on exhibition from September 1-30, 2019
It is September. It is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. It is back-to-school, the start of fall and Ewan’s birthday month. He turns ten on September 22, 2019. We’ll be celebrating with chocolate cake and chocolate milk. For a second year, we will celebrate without him.
Early on the morning of September 1, 2019, a friend helped me install his art on the community room walls at Convivial Cafe. It was more emotional than I expected. I couldn’t tell if I cried from pride or sadness. I have dragged my heels in writing his artist statement and artwork descriptions. In this part of the endeavor, the source of pain is obvious – the burden of bearing his meaning. It would be so much easier if he were here to tell me what to write.
He would be embarrassed to look back at the Lill Family Portrait he markered in 2016. He misspelled Torin’s name. It reads, ‘Torene’. He was only six, but even then Ewan was a slight perfectionist; he wanted to get things right.
Like the time when he was the ring bearer at Katharine’s wedding. It was a surprisingly sunny, unseasonably warm Chicago day, that December 16, 2017. He was so nervous. He kept asking me, “Mom, what am I supposed to do?”
“Walk down the aisle with a ring on a pillow. You will know what to do when the time comes.” The job seemed self-explanatory to me: bear a ring; ring bearer. Though it’s not a job I’ve ever had.
“But Mom, what if I trip? What if I lose the ring?” he fretted.
“You won’t trip. Besides, the ring will be tied to the pillow. It will be okay.”
Still, he worried as if, not just the union of these beloved friends, but a flawless launching into the future was resting on his shoulders. Looking back, it makes complete sense. There was no instruction manual for the job. Other than a hurried run-through the night before, where he was one of many ensemble members, had no lines and received zero cues from the director, Ewan would be improvising in front of a crowded room of mostly strangers while carrying the most valuable symbols of love: tiny, shiny, golden rings. All this pressure while wearing new shoes. Of course, he was worried about tripping.
Finally, the day arrived. Dressed in black lacquered oxfords and new suit and tie, Ewan escorted the flower girl down the aisle while bearing the rings. The vision of future generations drew oohs and aahs and warmed our hearts. He handed off the pillowed prized possessions to the best man like they were radioactive hot potatoes. Then, Ewan zipped in place, next to me, on the hard church pew. He sighed with relief and asked, “How did I do?”
“Perfect,” I whispered, and his shoulders relaxed.
Team Ewan 
I just read your article “3 phases you say to someone dying”. Of course I balled my eyes out. It was so well written and so touching and so hard to read. My son is in his third year of treatment for B-cell ALL. He’s the same age as yours would’ve been. He paints and builds and is a beautiful child but has also endured more than he should have and his deep blue eyes speak to this. Of course my heart refused to read your article but my head said there is something beautiful here , so I read it and it broke me open. You are an amazing person and an amazing mom and amazing woman and advocate. Thank you for sharing your words, a deep understanding, your empathy and your love for your boy. The bravery you have endured many of us have and continue to do so but your words and insight help fill my heart with hope and love and as a human this is really all we can do to make things better for one another. Thank you.
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