Brief Synopsis:
Fate was working against little Brian Mauretti. The food that was meant to nourish him was poisoning him instead, and the doctors said the damage was devastating and absolute. Fate had written off Brian. But fate didn’t count on a woman as determined as Brian’s grandmother, Angela DiMartino – who everyone knew as Mama. Loving her grandson with everything she had, Mama endeavored to battle fate. Fate had no idea what it was in for.
An emotional tale about the strength of family bonds, unconditional love, and the perseverance to do our best with the challenging gifts we receive, Goodnight, Brian is an uplifting tribute to what happens when giving up is not an option.
steven.h.manchester@sunlife.
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http://www.StevenManchester.
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Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/
Goodnight, Brian
(brief excerpt)
Enough time had passed for the
shock of Brian’s condition to wear off. Joan had stumbled beyond the grieving
process and had given up negotiating with God. She was now at a place called
rage. Mama sat with her daughter at the kitchen table, trying to help her make
sense of it all. “Maybe Brian’s a test from God?” Mama suggested.
“Why would God
test a little baby who’s never done a thing wrong? Why would He test an
innocent child?” Joan snapped back.
Mama shook her
head. “I didn’t say God was testing Brian,” she said evenly. There was a
thoughtful pause. “Maybe He’s testing everyone around Brian?”
“I don’t want to
hear that!” Joan roared. “My son will never be able to enjoy the life of other
people who don’t…”
Mama slapped her
hand on the Formica table, stopping Joan in mid-sentence and turning her face
into that of a seven-year-old girl’s. “Not another negative word, do you hear
me?” she yelled back, quickly grabbing her daughter’s hands and holding them
tightly. “Positive, Joan—everything must be positive! Negative calls for
negative and positive brings forth positive. Brian’s already facing some unfair
challenges. We have to be positive, Joan. We just have to be!”
Joan wiped her
eyes. “But what if the doctor’s right, Ma?” she muttered in a tortured voice.
“What if…”
Without letting
Joan’s hands go, Mama took a deep breath and started in on her own tirade. “The
doctors don’t know what the hell they’re talking about! I had a grandmother who
lived her whole life as a brittle diabetic, but she ate anything she wanted.
She died three days before her eighty-fifth birthday. Your grandfather
supposedly had cirrhosis of the liver, but lived with his bottle for forty more
years until old age took him. They don’t know beans! Besides, we need to have
faith in a higher source.” She pulled her crucifix away from her neck and
kissed it. “You have to believe, Joan. Before any of the healing can take
place, you have to believe that it will.” She nodded and lowered her tone.
“Only God knows how…and that’s enough.”
Joan placed her
face in her hands and began to cry. She was now completely removed from her
rage and safely returned to the stage of grief. “I’m…just…so… scared,” she
stuttered, sobbing.
Mama stroked her
hair. “Don’t you worry, love. They say that children are raised by a village.”
She nodded her gray, curly head. “I think it’s about time we had a village
meeting.”
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