I had a childhood friend, Steven, who died of leukemia the summer before I started high school. He was an out of state pen pal who meant the world to me and his death shocked me. For all that we shared through letters, he never once mentioned his leukemia came out of remission. He never told me he was dying. And then he was gone.
Steve would have celebrated his 46th birthday on February 14th this year, had he lived. Dying at 17 seemed so crazy- so unreal… but chemo didn’t work the same miracles in 1981 that it does now.
I am missing Steve this week.
I like to think he lives on… and not just in my memories. I see him in my stories and written work. He was the first person to teach me to paint a picture with words. He encouraged me to make good choices when I came to forks in the road. He was a voice of sobriety and sanity during a troubling childhood too full of drama, sadness and chaos. He was my lifeline and I lived for his letters.
It was hard on me when they stopped coming. And for a long time, high school was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
I was in Canada on his first birthday in heaven. I believe in heaven. That it is a real place of beauty. I have to believe he is there, with all the good men women and children who have passed through my life on their way to that perfect place
I like to think Steve is proud of me…rooting for me…supporting me… I strive to make a difference. I work hard to do for others who are in need. And I am embarrassed by praise that I sometimes receive- cause it is what I am supposed to do.
Knowing this young man made me a better person, a better friend and a better mom. I tell my kids I love them. They hear it every day- and twice on the days they are on my last nerve, jumping up and down. Cause it can be gone so quickly.
Steve signed every letter with Love you always – and I do it too- so those I love know it. Nobody should ever doubt they are loved.
So Steve-
Happy Birthday! I miss you.
Love you always,
Geri
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