In June my sister-in-law is participating in the Rock and Roll Marathon in San Diego to raise money for leukemia. My husband donated $100 from us, but he was a little hesitant at first to tell me the amount he gave. I don’t know why – he knows I’m a generous person. But what he didn’t know at the time is that I have a big soft spot in my heart for leukemia research…********
My best friend in nursery school was Michael B. He was a bubbly blond-haired boy, and perhaps even my first crush. He always had a smile on his face and he always made me laugh. When he was in school, we were inseparable.
But there were times when he was out of school for weeks at a time.
Once when he came back from a long absence, he was wearing a hat. It was a cute little beach hat with white, blue and yellow stripes. Underneath it, he was bald from the chemo treatments he was undergoing for leukemia.
In nursery school, we were taught to put our coats on by ourselves. The technique was to place the coat on the floor in front of us, upside down. Then we would bend down and put our arms through the armholes, and make a big circle up over our heads, and our coats would miraculously be on.
Well when Michael tried to put his coat on at the end of the day, his hat came off. One of the boys took it and ran. A big chase was on. Everyone was in on it, pointing and laughing, teasing Michael about his bald head. But he was all smiles as he ran around after them, because that’s the kind of kid he was.
I ran around too, flailing my arms and jumping up and down, until one of the kids finally threw the hat to me. I ran over and put it right back on Michael’s head, and the game was over. We were best friends, you know.
Sometime the next year I was with my mother, visiting my grandmother’s grave at the church near the playground. Just a few steps away was a headstone with a baseball and a bat carved into it, which looked much different than all the other headstones decorated with flowers and crosses.
“Ooh, I like this one,” I said.
“Oh, that’s poor little Michael B from your nursery school,” my mother said.
I was speechless. Just wide-eyed and speechless.
I realized a few things that day, at the age of 6. I realized that anyone could die, even a little kid. I had always thought that dying was something that happens when you get too old. This new knowledge put a fear in me that kept me awake many, many nights throughout my childhood.
I also realized that my best friend was gone.
I remember you, Michael, and I think of you often. I will never forget your smile, or your sweet blue eyes, or your laugh, or your courage.
********
If anyone would like to donate to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, here is the site where my sister-in-law is collecting donations. I’m proud of her for the effort she is putting into training for this event and for collecting money for this worthy cause.
My best friend in nursery school was Michael B. He was a bubbly blond-haired boy, and perhaps even my first crush. He always had a smile on his face and he always made me laugh. When he was in school, we were inseparable.
But there were times when he was out of school for weeks at a time.
Once when he came back from a long absence, he was wearing a hat. It was a cute little beach hat with white, blue and yellow stripes. Underneath it, he was bald from the chemo treatments he was undergoing for leukemia.
In nursery school, we were taught to put our coats on by ourselves. The technique was to place the coat on the floor in front of us, upside down. Then we would bend down and put our arms through the armholes, and make a big circle up over our heads, and our coats would miraculously be on.
Well when Michael tried to put his coat on at the end of the day, his hat came off. One of the boys took it and ran. A big chase was on. Everyone was in on it, pointing and laughing, teasing Michael about his bald head. But he was all smiles as he ran around after them, because that’s the kind of kid he was.
I ran around too, flailing my arms and jumping up and down, until one of the kids finally threw the hat to me. I ran over and put it right back on Michael’s head, and the game was over. We were best friends, you know.
Sometime the next year I was with my mother, visiting my grandmother’s grave at the church near the playground. Just a few steps away was a headstone with a baseball and a bat carved into it, which looked much different than all the other headstones decorated with flowers and crosses.
“Ooh, I like this one,” I said.
“Oh, that’s poor little Michael B from your nursery school,” my mother said.
I was speechless. Just wide-eyed and speechless.
I realized a few things that day, at the age of 6. I realized that anyone could die, even a little kid. I had always thought that dying was something that happens when you get too old. This new knowledge put a fear in me that kept me awake many, many nights throughout my childhood.
I also realized that my best friend was gone.
I remember you, Michael, and I think of you often. I will never forget your smile, or your sweet blue eyes, or your laugh, or your courage.
********
If anyone would like to donate to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, here is the site where my sister-in-law is collecting donations. I’m proud of her for the effort she is putting into training for this event and for collecting money for this worthy cause.
13 comments:
Wonderful tribute to a brave little boy. Thanks for sharing that story.
Death left me alone until I was in my thirties.
Such a rude little fellow, death.
It is sad when a good little boy or girl gets such sickness in them.
Truly.
Hi Travis! Thank you, I appreciate that. And thanks for stopping by :)
Hi Scott! Until your 30's? Wow, I think I saw quite a bit of it at a young age. But this is one of the ones I never quite got over... this and one other, which I haven't blogged about yet. Probably both still bother me because both were children. That always seemed so unfair.
And yet...in some ways he was fortunate to have lived his short life in innocence. Think of all the negative, disappointing parts of life he didn't have to go through. We'll never fully know why these things happen, or if there's even a why, until we're where he is, but it does make you want to be ready, whatever your belief system is.
Thanks for sharing such a poignant memory, Tammie. =)
I really still cannot figure out how the loss of a loved one affects a young child. Your post somehow gave me a glimpse.
Again, thank you.
=)
There was a boy in my small high school, also a Michael, who was kiled in an accident when we were 16. I remember being shaken by that, espcialy the sight of his fatehr at the funeral when his knees buckled with the grief of it. I have since had several very good frineds die of acncer (one of leukemia) leaving behind young children. So sad at any age.
Your post gave me goosebumps. It was so touching.
Cancer is terrible (I've lost several relatives to it, including my dad and a young cousin when he was six), but it seems especially heartbreaking when it happens to young children.
Your story makes me think of a childhood friend named Eddie. Damn I miss Eddie. We were best friends until I moved away in 5th grade (whatever age that is).
Many years later during college, I went back home to Jersey for thew holiday and my mom told me that she had run into Eddie's mom somewhere and she told her that Eddie was killed in a hit and run in '92.
I hadn't seen him in over 10 years but it still broke my heart to hear that.
Anyway, thanks for sharing your story. Glad I stumbled into your place.
Wow, last week was a busy one for me! Sorry for the delay in responding...
Hi Jeff! Yes, that's true. Maybe if there is a lesson to take away, it's to live your life every single day. Tomorrow is promised to no one.
Hi Houseband! Yes, I see how that would be of concern to you.
I know when my grandmother passed, it was explained to me that it was her time, and that was something my head could make sense of at that age. But someone my age dying just made no sense to me.
Another thought though: my grandmother's passing was something that was discussed with me, whereas Michael's death was something I stumbled upon and found very shocking. Open dialog on the subject may have been beneficial. I was left to formulate my own answers, and I had none.
CSL - I think we had at least one student in my high school die each year in a car accident. It was heartbreaking! Every yearbook had that "dedication" page. It really makes you loose that invicible feeling you have as a youth rather quickly. But it's true, so sad at any age.
Hi Lizza! I'm so sorry to hear about your father and your cousin. It is heartbreaking when a child has to endure so much, but as CSL said, it's so sad at any age.
Hi Kiyotoe! I'm sorry to hear about your friend Eddie. I think our childhood friends hold a dear place in our hearts. Perhaps they're the first people outside of our families that we learn to love.
Thanks for stopping by... I'll do the same :)
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