Butch

PHONE CALL TO HEAVEN

Hello, Jesus? This is Butch Jacksons mom,
If it is Thy will, I'd like to speak to my son,
You know,Jesus, I still love him so,
Just as much as I did when he was here below.

I love his long wild hair, and his big happy smile,
And his old jeans and t-shirt, cause that was his style,
But I guess now he wears a robe made of white,
And I know his eyes are shining and bright.

I know he's happy in his Heavenly home,
But this world sure is lonely since he's been gone,
And I know he's found peace in his home up above,
So if he can't come to the phone, Lord,
Please give him my love.

Copywrited by Dean Sellers

TRIBUTES TO BUTCH
FROM TERRISTREASURES

Butch was born in Chicago, Illinois. He was my
precious gift from God. He was such a sweet
little baby, and so easy to spoil, which I did
shamelessely. He was always smiling, and his
smile could light up the world, at least it lit up
my world.
He always said, after he was older that he
wished Pamela had lived, because he would
have liked to have a big sister. He had two
older brothers and two younger ones, but no
more sisters.
He always loved animals and managed to have
a dog or cat, and sometime both, but he acted
as though they were people. I think he must
have loved his pets more then he did people.
There are times when I feel the same way!

This is his first dress
up picture. I still have
his little bow tie.

Butch sent this picture to me
as a Christmas gift about five
years before his death. Some
laughed about him sending
it as a gift, but this and a little
stuffed donkey, which was
his last Christmas gift are two
of my most prized memories
of him. He was so afraid I
wouldn't like it, but I loved it.
I ALWAYS WILL!

This is Butch with another one of his pets. I will
always cherish this picture because it was one
of his last ones. It was taken about a year
before he died.
About a year later, the day started about like
any other day. I got up, and was drinking my
my coffee, when the phone rang. At first I was
a little unhappy because I hate to get calls
before I've finished my coffee, but I was happy
to hear my son, Dannys voice. I was always so
happy to hear from my boys, but when he
asked if my husband was in the room, or if I
was sitting down, I knew this was a phone call
I'd wish I'd never gotten. It was the call that
tore my world apart.

The days following his funeral were about
the hardest days of my life. when we got
back to Texas, I started packing away
some of the things he had sent to me down
through the years, and some things I;d
brought back from Florida that he had left.
I was looking at Christmas cards, and
cards for my birthday and Mothers Day,
and my heart was just breaking. I missed
him so badly I could hardly stand it. I
started thinking how much I'd like to talk to
him just one more time. Suddenly I thought,
"Wouldn't it be great if there was a special
phone straight to Heaven, and I could
make just one call to the number". These
thoughts led me to write the poem,
Phone Call To Heaven.

ROBERT JOHN [BUTCH] JACKSON
November 1,1961- January 27, 1995

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