A Letter To Amy

It’s 3:30 in the morning, and I can’t sleep. I learned a couple of days ago that you had been in a bad car crash, and it wasn’t good. Then earlier tonight, I found out just how bad. I found out that you had suffered serious brain and spinal injuries, and were in a coma and on a ventilator. I found out that your family has decided that they will take you off of life support today, and I feel like I’ve been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer.

When did we first meet? Kindergarten? First grade? Regardless, it’s been well over 50 years. But after so many years apart, sometimes I wonder if you’d even remember me. I wasn’t exactly outgoing in my youth. Most of the time I was the kid in the back of the classroom or off to the side; quiet and just kind of there.

I knew you were troubled early on, but I didn’t know why. I remember one day in maybe the 4th or 5th grade, you got upset about something and ran away from school. We were outside for recess, and you crawled under the fence and took off down the road. As I recall, you made it quite a ways before some teachers tracked you down and brought you back. I just remember feeling a little sad and worried for you. I liked you and knew that something wasn’t right.

But what I remember most is your big smile and big heart. I wasn’t exactly one of the popular kids, but I can’t recall you ever being anything but kind to me. When I think of you, all that comes to mind is laughs and smiles and warmth. Now that I think about it, I’m sure you would remember me…more because of who you are than who I am.

Sitting here in a dimly lit house in the middle of the night, I can’t help but think of how much dimmer the world is going to be without you in it. Even though we haven’t kept in touch, it made me feel good knowing that you were out there, being you. I’d see you on social media now and then, doing your TV and movies or some other adventure, and I’d just think, “Look at you go!” I was happy for you, knowing that you were doing well. Even though I haven’t seen you in over 40 years now, I am going to miss you so very much. I can’t tell you how much I regret not going to our high school reunions and missing out on the chance to see you and other old friends.

I hope you like the little sketch I did for you. It’s not much…I’ve been playing around with creativity apps and drawing on my iPad; you can probably tell that I’m not that good. But it’s the image that came into my head when I heard you were leaving us, and it’s the best I could do. A candle, snuffed out, its light fading into a wisp of smoke. But the smoke rises out of the growing darkness, becoming a bird flying in a sunlit blue sky.

This is my prayer for you, Amy. I pray that if it is His will that you leave us…that God lifts you up, out of this world into His house of peace and light. I pray that His love strengthens your family and helps them in the difficult days ahead. I pray that we’ll see each other again someday.

Until that day, I’ll remember you like this…