pinksuedeshoe

It’s early right now… or late, however you want to look at it.  But I can’t go to bed.  First of all, I forgot to put the sheets in the dryer, so I’ve got at least 55 more minutes of being up.  And second of all, I have something I can’t get off my mind.  I have had this lump in my throat that won’t go away, and my heart hurts.  And I want to tell you a story.

A longish time ago a new boy moved into my 4th grade class.  His name was Mike.  He told me he liked my braids.  I liked his smile.  We were fast friends.  He showed me how to double dutch.  He was sweet.  And for a 9 year old boy a total romantic.  That year among the many little gifts he left in my desk, he gave me a blue crayon and a pink, because they were my favorite colors.   As we grew up we shared a lot of the same interests.  We both liked music, and drama.  We were in the school plays together.  We took the same classes.  We weren’t best friends, but I always liked him.  Sometimes we liked each other more than others, we’d “go out”.  Which for my junior high self meant we didn’t talk to each other or look at each other when we thought the other was looking.  We couldn’t talk on the phone, because then my sisters and my mom would know.  And what could be worse, right?   But we would sit next to each other at lunch sometimes.  And I wore a ring he made for me out of a dollar bill.  Then to my complete embarrassment at the end of year assembly we won the “Cutest Couple in the 8th grade.”  I had to like, go up on the stage and accept my award in front of everyone and stuff.  But I wasn’t wearing that ring anymore.  Mike smiled at me anyway, that boy had a smile that could part the sea.  We were always friends.  He’d call me when he was in trouble.  I’d meet him somewhere to just talk.  I would have done anything for him, and I think he knew it.  I hope he did.

In highschool I would play the piano for him all the time when he sang at church.  Even if he asked me super last minute, I’d always say Yes. Mike had the most beautiful singing voice in the world.  Effortless, and magical.  He could tell amazing stories with that voice. It had such emotion, such power, and such amazing love.  Mike was also a great dancer, tall and strong and the best swing partner ever.  He would do all the fun stuff.  I mean, let’s face it… most highschool boys don’t dance at all.  But Mike knew lifts and flips and the twirls that no one else could do.  I felt like a real dancer (I’m not) as he flipped me upside down and inside out and around and around.  I loved to dance with him.

As we grew up we grew apart, as most young friends do.  He changed schools and had a new group of friends, and so did I.  But whenever I would see him he’d wrap me up in those big arms and pick me up off the ground in a bear hug.  I was always happy to see him, no matter the circumstances.  And I thought about him a lot.  I still do.  After we graduated from highschool we lost touch.  I went to college, got bored, moved to Russia for a while and then came home to finish school.  And then I met Scott, and we were engaged that same year.  Because I lived in Russia before I had a cellphone, or facebook and blogs and twitter and whatever-else-have-you, I had lost contact with most of my highschool friends.  I ran into Mike once, but we were both late for something and didn’t have more than a minute to talk.  But as I was making my list of friends to send announcements to, I put Mike up at the top.  I was sure I still knew his parents address, and I was sure they would get it to him.  And it was important to me that he had an announcement.  I got married at the end of 2003.

A few years went by.  I was crazy busy with a full time job and full time school and I fell into the newlywed trap of losing touch with ALL your single friends.  And then one day I ran into Mike’s little sister at the grocery store, pretty late at night.  I was happy to see her, and asked how Mike was doing.  She got this look on her face, and I knew something had happened.  Only all of a sudden I didn’t want to know what it was.  She gently told me that Mike had died unexpectedly at the end of April, 2004.  As she told me the story, I couldn’t hold back the tears.  She finished and I told her how sorry I was, and thanked her for telling me.  Then we went our separate ways.

I sobbed all the way home.  And I spent most of the night crying as well.  I dug through the old boxes and found pictures and notes and Valentines from elementary school that I had saved.  I had told Scott about Mike before, but I told him everything I could remember all over again.  I didn’t want to forget. Months later I found a note from him in my old set of scriptures, asking if I’d play the piano for him while he sang.  And I teared up all over again.

Mike was not the first person I’ve lost that I loved.  Nor was he the closest to me.  I don’t know why his life and the end of it has affected me the way it has.  But I am grateful for it.  The past few years, since Creamie was born, I’ve been thinking more about Mike’s mom.  And tonight, just a few days after the 7 year anniversary of his death, I can’t get them both out of my mind.

Tonight I laid down next to Creamie who woke up a few hours ago in tears. As I tried to snuggle her back into sleep I thought about life and love and loss.  And the power that all three have to change us and make us better, wiser, more sypathetic, more patient, more kind, more full of love for our fellowman.  We are here to help each other.  The experiences we can share with each other is what makes the hard parts of life or love or loss bearable.  And the sweet things we share is what takes some of the sting out of those hard parts.  And as I was laying down next to her warm little body I thought of Mike and his mom.  And how she must have snuggled him when he woke up crying in the night.  And how she would have sung his favorite songs, and that lump came to my throat, and my eyes filled up with tears, and I had to stop singing.

I thought about how unpredictable life is.  And how you never really know what is going to happen next, or how what just happened will affect what is to come.  I am grateful for my faith in God.  I truly believe he has a plan for me.  I don’t always know what it is, or understand why it happens the way it does, but I believe that all things will work together for my good in the end.  I believe that I will see those I’ve lost again, someday. But in the meantime, I will never forget how Mike has profoundly changed me. For the better.  There is a part of me that will never stop loving him. And as I lay in the dark listening to Creamie’s even breathing I thought again about all the good memories I have of Mike.  And some of the less than awesome ones, but mostly I thought about the good, the funny and the sweet.  I thought about that first year I knew him.  And I think I’ll always remember him as that nine year old boy, with a blue crayon and a pink.