My father just called, he's on the road, working hard so that he can keep working. He wanted to catch me before I went off into my weekend (he knows those two days are like to the Bermuda Triangle for me), to let me know that he got my message about his Make-a-Wish kid.

Dad said that he had been stressing out, feeling sorry for himself because he's working long, thankless days, because a friend flaked on evening plans and now he may have to go alone or not at all. He had been stressing, until things were sharply placed back into perspective for him.

One of his "wish's," that's what he calls the terminally-ill kids he is assigned to, has slipped from a routine wish to rush-wish. Seventeen-years-old, taken off treatment a few days ago and put into hospice, and when that happens... I don't even know how to describe it without sounding cold or distant. They deteriorate quickly, they fade fast, and when a wish goes "rush" they mean days, weeks at most. One child died at the "rush" party they threw him, filled with friends and family and clowns. He got to experience an hour, maybe two, of his wish.

But Dad is out of town, so he's passing this off to two of his partners who also know this kid. He sounded upset on the phone, upset in a sad, knowing, surrendering type of way, if that makes any sense. In one breath, he laughed out that he is no longer stressed, what with this blow of perspective. In the next, his voice cracked with emotion for this kid who is about to die.

Needless to say, I am no longer pensive and preoccupied, but I am still looking forward to my weekend with a smile... and the appreciation that I am here to experience it.

-Barbarella

previous | next