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Updated: June 24, 2025
She was a good sport one of the best." Of the death of their baby boy. "He was the brightest little kid everybody loved him. When I came home tired at night he would grab my finger see, this first finger and hold it, and want me to show him the bunny-book.... And then he died." Mr. Schwirtz told it simply, looking at clouds spread on the blue sky like a thrown handful of white paint.
To her, now, Julius Edward Schwirtz was not a flabby-necked widower, but a man who mourned, who felt as despairingly as could Walter Babson the loss of the baby who had crowed over the bunny-book. She, the motherless, almost loved him as she stood with him in the same depth of human grief.
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