On Friday I received an email from my friend Chris’ dad. Chris and I were childhood friends. He showed me how to flush an entire deck of cards down the toilet (before moving on to Hot Wheel racing). Another time we attempted to start a fire by furiously rubbing Lincoln Logs together. Chris was very mischievous, we brought out the best/worst in each other.
When Chris was ten he was diagnosed with lymphoma. Tumor the size of an orange in his armpit. He went through chemo and radiation. Six months later the hospital called, his treatment schedule had been miscalculated; come back for more kid, sorry our bad! It devastated his family. The next eight years were spent in and out of hospitals. His parents lost their medical coverage. They had to file for bankruptcy to support the steadily rising medical bills. There were so many brushes with death his brother and sister were each held back in school. Chris was a fighter, he pulled through.
Tragically after years of living in and out of remission, Chris overdosed on drugs at the age of twenty-three. My mom keeps in touch with his parents but I have not seen or heard from them since we were kids. I was surprised to get an email from Chris dad, it said:
I was cleaning out my garage when I came across an envelope mailed 14 Nov 1991 to our son Christopher with your return address.
Laughter and fond memories came flooding back. I hope all is well with you and that the happiness you deserve is with you.
As soon as I finished reading it I felt dizzy. My eyes misted over and memories swam in my chest: sandy fried chicken on the beach, crawdadding in the freezing cold water of Lake Tahoe, sledding down sand dunes in the desert. Miss you Chris.
Oh. I am so so sorry. *hug*