Robert William Ravenscroft

Hi, I am Robert Ravenscroft, and I am now in heaven. Just wanted to let you know a little about me. I was born on April 15, 1984. I was kind of in a rush to get here, so I was a preemie who weighed 2lbs. 10oz. My home for the first ten months of my life was the NICU at Memorial Hospital in Long Beach, California. That began a taxing time for Mommy and Daddy.

During my stay, I had a grade IV brain bleed, which would lead to cerebral palsy. I was very stubborn, thanks Mom. I fought back from surgeries and an E-coli infection. I was the stubborn warrior at an early age.

I finally went home with Mommy and Daddy at 10 mos. Even when I got home, Mom and Dad would pound the heck out of my chest and back because of my lung problems. I got to love those poundings, Those percussions became a comfort to me all through my years. I started having seizures, which were usually grand mal. But I fought through those, and they actually stopped when I was a teen.

I started school at Lord Baden Powell, in Anaheim, when I was three. I had some great teachers. Gary taught me tons of vocabulary. He made a video of me at twelve showing off my skills. I almost wore out the tape watching it.

Unfortunately, when I was five, because of  Tegretol, a seizure med, I almost died again. The medication damaged my liver I fought back from that, because I was bound and determined to get home to Mommy and Daddy.

I had more surgeries through these years from shunt replacement to foot surgery. I started showing how good I was with words and coins. By the end of my time at Baden Powell, I knew how to count money, had learned at least five hundred words, and memorized a whole bunch of songs. I loved to sing. I think that came from Mommy and Daddy having to sing to me for a few years to get me to eat. I liked entertainment with my meals.

At twelve, I went to Hope High School in Anaheim. I really started to flourish there in all ways. I had the greatest music teacher, Julie. She taught me to say the ‘th” sound, which I had never mastered. She taught me how to use a mike. After that, I was Mr. Ham. I loved to perform with a microphone. I learned so much music. I usually had a solo at each of our concerts. The year of my graduation, I had three solos for my last concert. I had perfect pitch. I even did a solo for the California Conference of Education Superintendents. Our Anaheim Superintendent was so impressed, he had me go to a board meeting and perform for them. I performed the “Star Spangled Banner” at a basketball game. I learned the Pledge of Allegiance. There was an art exhibit at the Santa Ana Mall. Julie took us to perform. I did a solo of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” and “The Star Spangled Banner”. I was the greatest.

At my graduation, I sang the “Star Spangled Banner”. I also received the American Legion Award for citizenship, patriotism, and scholarship. Must have been all that singing of the National Anthem.

Mommy took me to the Salvation Army a lot for a couple of years. I did a lot of solos for the congregation. I got standing ovations. I sang Christmas songs for their Christmas banquets and at church services. Audrey would accompany me on her euphonium. She taught me a lot of  religious songs, some of which I would sing at funerals, like “How Great Thou Art”.

After high school, I had a day program called “Discovery”. I loved my day program. I said that every time at was at Daddy’s or Mommy and Audrey’s. They had us perform a musical every year. We did “Sound of Music”, “Annie”, Beauty and the Beast” and “Oklahoma”. Of course I was the best singer, and I could memorize my lines, which most of the others could not do. Our last play, I played Curly in “Oklahoma!”. I was a hit. A lot of the ladies in the audience came up to me afterwards to tell me how good I was. I was grinning ear to ear. I so loved praise.

Also, at Discovery, I sang the “Star Spangled Banner” every day. I would say, as I was leaving every day, “Bye, Dorie, see you tomorrow.!” Dorie was in charge of our program. She loved me, and I loved her. Discovery will never be the same.

I was always a star when our neighbor, Marilyn, had a Christmas sing along get together. I knew all the Christmas songs. I probably had 200 or more songs memorized.

I was great at languages. I knew lots of words in Spanish. You could give me any number, and I would tell you what it was in German, whether it  was 1492 or 2020.

I knew world capitals and state capitals. I knew football teams. Mom used this big word ‘savant” to describe my memory, German, etc. I was only supposed to reach a 7 year old level developmentally, but, as always, I proved everyone wrong and did a lot better.

I could read quite well. I read most of the Treehouse series, and most of the Here’s Hank books. I loved to act out the quotations. I was quite the actor. I loved to read. I would say, “Mommy, you can be so proud.” And she was.

I was a better speller than my dad. He took me grocery shopping every Sunday. I read the list to tell him what he needed. I knew the checker’s names.

Over the years, Mom kept track of all my great sayings. She put them in the Christmas letters every year for thirty-six years. People got a real kick out of them. There are far too many to share here.

In spite of all I had been through, I remained a very happy guy. I was told my smile lit up a room. No one could remain sad around me.

The scar tissue, from my many infections and surgeries the first ten months of my life, closed off an artery that fed my stomach and intestines, thus the tissue died. That and the infection was just too much for me to live. God decided I had been a good warrior for my whole life, and it was time for me to go to my heavenly home. No more pain, no more limitations from cerebral palsy, and no more scar tissue to cause me major problems. As St. Paul said, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. And now the prize awaits me….”  I went to heaven July 11, 2020. I heard Mommy say, “The light of our lives has gone out.”

Love,

Robert

Luyben Dilday Mortuary (562) 425-6401