Not everyone has had the pleasure of knowing someone with an attitude that positive. For those of us who have, however, our lives have been touched in a tremendous way. We know that life is too short to have the things that matter most be at the mercy of the things that matter least. We know how to live—now—and most of us are willing to let you in on the secret. Seize the day. Watch The Simpsons. Name an elevator. And laugh a little.
And to Kevin, the one who informed me with the biggest smile I have ever seen on anyone’s face that everyone gets to walk in heaven, I hope you’re enjoying those cartwheels. You earned every one of them.
Lauren Anderson
My Guardian Angel
When I was fourteen years old, I met two people who would change my life forever. During the summer before ninth grade, I was at the beach with my friend, Nick, when he introduced me to his best friend. His name was Lee. We were instant friends. There was something about his smile that stayed with me for the rest of that weekend. We started talking to each other online, and then on the phone. We just clicked.
Over the next few months, I found myself falling in love with Lee. I don’t know how or why it happened, but it did. By the time football season rolled around in mid-October, Lee and I were dating. Going out to eat after home games was a tradition for cheerleaders and football players at Central. And since I was a cheerleader and Lee played football, that’s usually where we ended up on Friday nights. One night I was sitting with Lee eating my usual chicken fingers when this short, kind of pudgy kid walked in and strolled right over to our table.
“Meghan, this is Dan Welch,” Lee said to me.
The kid looked at me with bright-blue eyes, smiled the biggest, whitest smile I’d ever seen and said, “Hey, what’s up?”
Little did I know that this was the beginning of the most important friendship I’d ever have in my life, and that I would grow to love that smile (not to mention that laugh) and depend on it to get me through some of my worst days. Dan made me laugh, made me cry, picked up the pieces when my life seemed to fall apart, and always managed to keep me smiling. We had staring contests that I always lost and wrestling matches that I usually won. He paged me when my favorite songs were on the radio and didn’t care when I sang at the top of my lungs to them in his car.
For about a year, the three of us spent as much time as we could together. They were my life. Lee and I had our ups and downs, but no matter how many times Lee and I fought or saw other people or made each other mad, we always found our way back to each other.
Then at the end of August 1999, my heart was broken. Dan and Lee were going off to college. And even though they were only going forty-five minutes away to Boston where they would be roommates at Northeastern, I thought I was going to die without them.
But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. My parents didn’t mind the phone bill too much, so I got to talk to them every day, and we talked online, too. They came home every weekend. On one of those weekend nights, they called me from Lee’s house to tell me they were coming to pick me up so I could go play Lazer Tag with them. As much as I wanted to go (I had been bugging them for a while now about going with them), I had to tell them no since I had to get up early the next morning. I was on my way out the door to the mall when the phone rang at 7:45. The last person I expected to hear from was Nick, who had gone with them. He sounded different, kind of shaken up. He told me they were just waiting for the game to start so I thought nothing of it. When I got home from the mall I found out he’d called again, right after I had left. I thought that was odd, so I called him back. As soon as he opened his mouth, my body turned to ice.
“I have bad news, Meg . . . Lee and Dan were in a car accident tonight on the way to Lazer Tag.”
I almost dropped the phone. This was not happening to me. Not to the two people I loved most in the world. I wouldn’t believe it.
“No, Nick, I don’t believe you. You would’ve told me when you first called . . . no, you’re lying! How could you lie about something like that? I hate you!”
Right before I hung up, I heard Nick yell, “I’m coming over right now . . . wait for me. . . .”
I went downstairs, still shaken, and waited by the door. I expected to see the three of them come up my steps laughing at how “gullible” I was. But when Nick walked up alone, I knew he had told me the truth. I could see it in his face.
“Nick, please tell me they’re okay . . . they have to be okay! Nick, tell me!” I didn’t know what I was saying; I could barely see straight I was crying so hard.
“Lee’s in the ICU in Boston. I don’t know if he’s gonna be okay or not. No one would tell me anything.”
“And . . . what about Dan?”
No answer.
“Nick, tell me he’s okay!” I yelled.
“I can’t, Meg. . . .” Nick got very quiet and looked down. “Dan didn’t make it. I’m so sorry, Meg . . . I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you earlier when I called you before, but I couldn’t tell you . . . not like that, not on the phone.” Nick was struggling for words, and I was struggling for breath.
“No!” I collapsed against him, crying. He pulled me into his arms and just hugged me. One of my best friends was dead, and my boyfriend was in intensive care. It was too much.
Nick got me into the living room and told my parents the details. Lee and Dan had been following Nick and a few other people in Dan’s father’s Blazer. Dan had lost control of the truck, and it crashed into the guardrail, flipping over and throwing them out. They didn’t have their seat belts on. Nick had called me from the side of the road on his cell phone. He told me later that he had needed to hear my voice; he had needed to know that at least one person he cared about was okay.
Somehow I made it through that night. I went to see Lee at the hospital, and his mom told me he’d be okay. He had a broken cheekbone, a dislocated shoulder and some other injuries, but he would be okay. He didn’t know about Dan yet, and everyone was worried about how to break the news.
I spent the next week in a daze, just going through the motions. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I cried myself to sleep every night, and even cried throughout the day. How do you go on without your best friend?
Telling Lee about Dan was the hardest. His parents told him, and he didn’t believe it at first. Eventually he realized it was true, and when he did all he could do was cry and hold my hand. I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed pretty quiet when they told him. It was a sad moment for all of us and a life-changing one for Lee.
It’s now been almost a year and a half since Dan’s death. Lee is fine now, physically, but emotionally we’re both scarred for life. There is a part of us that will always be missing, a place in us that will always have Dan’s name on it. I’ve been to his grave countless times, and I talk to him every night. I would give anything to have my best friend back. Nothing and no one will ever take his place. But I know he’s watching over me. He once promised me that he would always be there for me and that he’d never let me down. I know Dan, and I know that he’ll keep that promise forever.
Meghan O’Brien
And Then I Tell My Story
My mom and I fought all the time. She worked full-time as a waitress, so she expected me to take care of Kimmy, my six-year-old sister, and to clean the house. This one day I was frustrated, and I didn’t want to do the dishes. I asked her, “Why do I have to do everything?”
My mother dragged me outside and put me in the car. She looked at me and said, “You know what AIDS is, right?”
“Yeah, I know what that is. I heard about it on TV,” I muttered.
“I have AIDS; Kimmy and I both have AIDS. We have AIDS, Maria, and I can’t fight with you anymore. I need you to help me.” Then she went back into the house.
I remember sitting there stunned. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t cry; I was just so scared.
Just the week before I had seen the AIDS quilt on television. I saw names of people who had died from the di
sease. I thought, This doesn’t relate to me. And I had switched to cartoons. I was only twelve years old, after all.
Now, the two people I lived with and loved had AIDS. My mom had been infected through a blood transfusion before my sister was born. This was back in the early 1980s when they didn’t check blood supplies.
My mom did not want me to tell anyone because she was afraid of people’s reactions. After she told our church leaders, they asked her not to bring Kimmy back to Sunday school. She had gone to her church for support and instead found out they were afraid they would catch the disease.
So we kept it a secret and moved around a lot. I didn’t have many friends, and that was really hard on me. My days were spent going to school, coming home to take my mom and Kimmy to doctor’s appointments, paying bills, grocery shopping, cleaning the house and taking care of them at night. I got frustrated sometimes not having a normal teenager’s life. I wanted to do normal things, but this was my mom and sister. It felt right to be there with them.
After a while, I became less frustrated. For the longest time, every birthday I would wish for a cure, for them to be okay and not die. My wish changed as they got worse. I started praying to God, “Please, God, take them, and don’t let them go through a lot of pain.” Life became more about loving the time I had with them and preparing myself for their deaths.
Mom and Kimmy went to the hospital more and more. I wanted to be with them, so I slept in a chair at the hospital; sometimes I was given a cot. Every time they went to the hospital I was sad and scared, wondering if they were going to die.
Eventually, we contacted the AIDS Foundation. They were wonderful. They had counselors who came to the house. I could talk with them; they understood what I was going through. At fifteen years old, I finally had a support system and friends.
My last two years of high school I was home-schooled. It was too hard to go to school every day. The hospital stays were becoming more frequent and longer. The teachers knew about my situation and helped me with my assignments.
Kimmy passed away three years ago in the hospital. She was thirteen years old. I got a lot of support from the AIDS Foundation, but I did have to sign papers and make final arrangements. Mom didn’t want to do it. She was too sick, and it made her too sad.
After Kimmy was gone, my mom quickly got worse. She had a brain infection and couldn’t talk. Nurses taught me how to change her catheter and take care of her at home. They came to check on her every morning.
The day came when Mom didn’t recognize me anymore. She mostly slept—she was on heavy pain medication. One night she was breathing really hard. I slept next to her all night, fearing the worst.
She died the next morning. Thank God, the nurse happened to be there. Otherwise, I think I might have lost it.
I stayed at the house by myself for a month. I wanted to; I needed the time alone. I started packing things and had a garage sale. My friends from the AIDS Foundation were there for me helping any way they could.
These same friends are now my family. One very good friend—Kimmy’s counselor—is like a big sister. She invited me to stay at her house. I’ve lived with her for two years.
I’m still sad. I miss Mom and Kimmy every day. But I’ll be okay. I have a lot of friends and a lot of love. I’m in community college now, and I love school.
I don’t think AIDS will ever leave my life. It’s part of who I am. I want to help educate as many people as I can. I participate in all of the Foundation events. I speak to students at colleges, high schools, middle schools and elementary schools to educate them about AIDS prevention. Many schools are afraid to tell kids to wear condoms or practice abstinence. When I speak I tell them, “You really need to protect yourself. Don’t be fooled. Just because someone doesn’t look sick, he or she could still be infected. Don’t assume your boyfriend or girlfriend is all right. And don’t think it can’t affect you.” And then I tell my story.
Maria Piñedo
[EDITORS’ NOTE: For more information on AIDS and HIV or if you would like to get involved in AIDS/HIV education and prevention efforts, the following are some helpful resources.]
Teen AIDS Hotline: 800-234-4TEEN
National AIDS Hotline: 800-342-2437
Information, referrals, support, twenty-four hours.
Youth Crisis Line: 800-843-5200
Twenty-four hours. Bilingual.
I Wonder as I Wander
I wonder as I wander
Out under the sky
Why do people I care about
Always have to die?
Are you happy where you are,
Wherever that may be?
I wonder as I wander,
Do you still think of me?
Is it nice up there in heaven?
For I know you made it there.
Are the clouds made out of marshmallows?
Do you know that I still care?
I look up at the winter sky,
And shed a single tear.
I think of all the days gone by,
I’ll always hold you dear.
I wonder as I wander
Out under the sky
Why do people I care about
Always have to die?
Hilary Begleiter
The Death of a Friend
I have had a rare anemia my whole life, which requires me to go to the hospital every four weeks for a blood transfusion. Every four weeks I spend two days in the hospital with nothing to do. I know some of the kids who go to the hospital regularly, and sometimes we visit each other’s rooms. Only problem is, most of these kids are much younger than I am, and I can’t really relate to them. I accept this fact and try to make the best of it every time I go.
During a routine visit sometime after my fifteenth birthday, my favorite nurse asked me if I had met Greg, a new patient about my age. I told her I hadn’t but would like to, so she led me to his room. My life would never be the same.
His room was full of silver balloons, games and sport drinks. Greg was a boy with tan brown skin and curly black hair. He had a controller in his hand and was playing Nintendo. After we were introduced, he asked me if I wanted to play. I love video games so I gladly accepted his offer. I immediately noticed a neon yellow bag hanging from his I.V. pole. I asked him what it was and he told me it was chemotherapy for his leukemia. I had never really talked to someone with cancer before so I was intrigued to hear the details of the disease. We exchanged information about each other while playing Nintendo and, by the time we were done, I felt as if I had known him for years.
We were friends from that day forward. Whenever I was admitted to the hospital, I would ask if he was there. If he had just left the hospital, the nurses would always tell me Greg had asked about me. Finally, Greg’s foster mom suggested to my dad that we take our friendship outside the hospital walls. So Greg started visiting me at my house, and our bond grew even stronger.
Greg’s appearance changed from time to time because of the chemotherapy. His thick, curly black hair would come out, and he would look like a ripe peach covered with fuzz. Sometimes he would lose large amounts of weight and become skinny like a toothpick. The physical changes would never affect his character, though. He always kept his upbeat attitude, and he never showed any signs of fear or sadness.
Earlier this year, Greg’s condition took a turn for the worse. His doctor told him that he had to come to the hospital every day for antibiotics, potassium and platelets. Since Greg’s foster mom lived a good hour from the hospital, the daily hospital visit was going to pose a problem. Greg’s foster mom was trying to find him a foster home closer to the hospital, so my dad applied to become a foster parent so we could take Greg under our roof. We lived less than a mile from the hospital so we thought it would be perfect. Unfortunately, the foster-care people didn’t see my father as financially stable enough, and Greg ended up staying with a Russian couple who already had two foster kids.
I brought my Sony Playstation along with me when
I visited him during his daily four-hour stays at the hospital. One time when I was keeping him company, I asked about his prognosis. He told me, “They’ve tried everything there is to try, and I might die.” I couldn’t believe how honest he was with me.
He was really thin, just under one hundred pounds, but I felt confident that he would be all right. After some strong antibiotics and other medications he was taking, he eventually did get better. He packed on a few pounds, grew some hair, and soon we were back to hanging out and playing video games together. We went to see The Matrix, which Greg decided was his all-time favorite movie. We were at the apex of happiness, and things couldn’t have been better. Then, bam! Like a sniper’s bullet, Greg was suddenly hit with a nasty infection. The chemo had affected his immune system, making him vulnerable to bacteria that was looking for a place to set up shop. Greg was once again hospitalized and bedridden. I prayed for him every time I visited.
First he lost his ability to play video games, then his ability to speak, and finally he started to slip in and out of a coma-like sleep throughout the course of the day. This continued until one Sunday night, when I went upstairs to visit Greg after receiving my blood transfusion. As I entered his room, a great sadness hit me as I saw him lying in the small bed covered in pink blankets. His eyes were closed, and every breath he took seemed as though it may be his last. He had about six tubes connected to him and four machines all around him. I wanted to push the button on the machine that administered morphine because he appeared to be in tremendous pain. I felt scared because he didn’t look as if he would recover. I took his hand, which was as cold as ice, and said a prayer. I prayed for divine action and for Greg’s soul to do whatever it needed to do, even if that meant going back to the other side. My dad then came to take me home, so we said our good-byes and headed back to the house. I got a good night’s sleep, but the next day we got a call and found out that Greg had passed away about two hours after we left.