Karen Carpenter was singing. Her clear voice rung through the air, joining the sounds of cutlery and the chatter from the dinner table. The slow and sentimental tune indicated the beginning of "Rainy Days and Mondays" and suddenly the room fell silent apart from the music.
"I remember when she sang at that concert. Poor her." my mother said.
Five scenes played in my head, one after the other. The school production of the Wizard of Oz. Introducing myself to a new girl at my table on the first day of fourth grade. A blonde girl sitting helplessly at the side of the playground wearing flip flops whilst everybody else ran around playing tag. Tears streaming down my face as I sat in the summer heat. And a girl running through clouds, her blonde hair swinging, as though nothing could ever stop her.
I had known Teana since I was in kindergarten. She and I had been in girl scouts together and we had gotten along really well. I don't remember much of my childhood, but I do remember the time when we went to the school production of the Wizard of Oz. We giggled at the flying monkeys, gasped at the Wicked Witch of the West, and admired Dorothy's pretty shoes as her mother sat beside us and smiled. She didn't know then. Teana didn't either. Neither did I.
About 4 years spanned between our meeting again. We had both quit girl scouts after that year and since we didn't go to the same school, we drifted out of each other's lives. But on the first day of fourth grade, I sat down next to a girl with long blonde hair and together we greeted one another formally. After exchanging names, there was a strange feeling that we knew one another, but it had been so many years ago that we couldn't really be sure. But the names Teana and Blanca aren't the most common in the world, so after I few days we realized and felt a connection.
The year passed quickly. I tried to spend time with Teana, but I always got irritated with her because she would never run around outside. She would slump onto the bench at the side of the playground and watch us play, giving us excuses like "I don't feel like it." or "I'm wearing flip flops so I can't run." Nobody wanted to play anything but running games, so she always sat on the same bench in the shade, watching us with a look of exasperation. But I realize now that the look she had in her eyes was not of exasperation, but of sadness and longing.
I don't remember saying good bye to Teana. She had plans to continue at this school so I must have given her a brief farewell and then run off, filled with excitement for summer vacation. I wish I had. I wish I could remember. But I can't.
The sun streamed onto the veranda and a summery breeze travelled through the open windows. My mother stopped me as I ran into the house to grab money for some ice cream.
"Blanca, there's something I have to tell you." she said.
"Okay, what?" I replied airily, expecting nothing serious.
"Here, sit down." she beckoned towards the seat on the veranda onto which I sat.
"Do you remember Teana?" she asked softly.
"Yes." I answered. What on earth did Teana have to do with whatever she had to tell me?
"You were friends with her weren't you?" she asked again.
"Yes."
"Well, do you remember when you told me about how she would never play on the playground? How she would sit on the side and wouldn't run?" she questioned cautiously.
"Yes." I remembered the days when I came home frustrated because Teana would never participate and how I tried to invite her to our games, but she always declined.
"Well, it's because..." she hesitated and by now, I could sense that something was wrong, I just couldn't figure out what. Teana was fine. Why was my mother mentioning her now?
"Teana was sick. She had leukemia, it's a cancer that children get. That's why she could never run." The first bombshell.
"She died this summer, Blanca."
I'm sorry, Teana. I'm sorry that I didn't realize. I'm sorry that I said mean things about you. I'm sorry that I never gave you a proper goodbye. I'm sorry that you couldn't tell anybody. I'm sorry that you had to die. I'm sorry that you won't live to see another day and that I will. I'm sorry you never got to grow up. I'm sorry you never got to be a real kid. I'm sorry you never got to live your dreams. I'm sorry that you had to face death so soon.
I've never been as cold as I was that day. The tears were streaming down my face and I felt like my insides had frozen even though it was a sunny and warm day in the middle of summer. When you're 10, you're too young to understand sickness. Too young to understand death. Too young to understand that it's not your fault. But you're not too young to feel the guilt that somebody else died while you now live, to feel the sadness of death, to all of a sudden understand how terrified she must have been. It's not easy to die when you're 10. It's not easy to understand anything. Death is the hardest to understand. And always will be, for anybody.
Because "The last enemy that will be destroyed is death."
She's running through the heavens now. She's finally free. Her long, blonde hair flowing behind her, she's running, sprinting, galloping, racing through the skies. She doesn't stop. Doesn't have to. Running to make up for all those days that she couldn't, that her body wouldn't let her. She's free now.
Keep running Teana. You don't have to stop.
Go.
"I remember when she sang at that concert. Poor her." my mother said.
Five scenes played in my head, one after the other. The school production of the Wizard of Oz. Introducing myself to a new girl at my table on the first day of fourth grade. A blonde girl sitting helplessly at the side of the playground wearing flip flops whilst everybody else ran around playing tag. Tears streaming down my face as I sat in the summer heat. And a girl running through clouds, her blonde hair swinging, as though nothing could ever stop her.
I had known Teana since I was in kindergarten. She and I had been in girl scouts together and we had gotten along really well. I don't remember much of my childhood, but I do remember the time when we went to the school production of the Wizard of Oz. We giggled at the flying monkeys, gasped at the Wicked Witch of the West, and admired Dorothy's pretty shoes as her mother sat beside us and smiled. She didn't know then. Teana didn't either. Neither did I.
About 4 years spanned between our meeting again. We had both quit girl scouts after that year and since we didn't go to the same school, we drifted out of each other's lives. But on the first day of fourth grade, I sat down next to a girl with long blonde hair and together we greeted one another formally. After exchanging names, there was a strange feeling that we knew one another, but it had been so many years ago that we couldn't really be sure. But the names Teana and Blanca aren't the most common in the world, so after I few days we realized and felt a connection.
The year passed quickly. I tried to spend time with Teana, but I always got irritated with her because she would never run around outside. She would slump onto the bench at the side of the playground and watch us play, giving us excuses like "I don't feel like it." or "I'm wearing flip flops so I can't run." Nobody wanted to play anything but running games, so she always sat on the same bench in the shade, watching us with a look of exasperation. But I realize now that the look she had in her eyes was not of exasperation, but of sadness and longing.
I don't remember saying good bye to Teana. She had plans to continue at this school so I must have given her a brief farewell and then run off, filled with excitement for summer vacation. I wish I had. I wish I could remember. But I can't.
The sun streamed onto the veranda and a summery breeze travelled through the open windows. My mother stopped me as I ran into the house to grab money for some ice cream.
"Blanca, there's something I have to tell you." she said.
"Okay, what?" I replied airily, expecting nothing serious.
"Here, sit down." she beckoned towards the seat on the veranda onto which I sat.
"Do you remember Teana?" she asked softly.
"Yes." I answered. What on earth did Teana have to do with whatever she had to tell me?
"You were friends with her weren't you?" she asked again.
"Yes."
"Well, do you remember when you told me about how she would never play on the playground? How she would sit on the side and wouldn't run?" she questioned cautiously.
"Yes." I remembered the days when I came home frustrated because Teana would never participate and how I tried to invite her to our games, but she always declined.
"Well, it's because..." she hesitated and by now, I could sense that something was wrong, I just couldn't figure out what. Teana was fine. Why was my mother mentioning her now?
"Teana was sick. She had leukemia, it's a cancer that children get. That's why she could never run." The first bombshell.
"She died this summer, Blanca."
I'm sorry, Teana. I'm sorry that I didn't realize. I'm sorry that I said mean things about you. I'm sorry that I never gave you a proper goodbye. I'm sorry that you couldn't tell anybody. I'm sorry that you had to die. I'm sorry that you won't live to see another day and that I will. I'm sorry you never got to grow up. I'm sorry you never got to be a real kid. I'm sorry you never got to live your dreams. I'm sorry that you had to face death so soon.
I've never been as cold as I was that day. The tears were streaming down my face and I felt like my insides had frozen even though it was a sunny and warm day in the middle of summer. When you're 10, you're too young to understand sickness. Too young to understand death. Too young to understand that it's not your fault. But you're not too young to feel the guilt that somebody else died while you now live, to feel the sadness of death, to all of a sudden understand how terrified she must have been. It's not easy to die when you're 10. It's not easy to understand anything. Death is the hardest to understand. And always will be, for anybody.
Because "The last enemy that will be destroyed is death."
She's running through the heavens now. She's finally free. Her long, blonde hair flowing behind her, she's running, sprinting, galloping, racing through the skies. She doesn't stop. Doesn't have to. Running to make up for all those days that she couldn't, that her body wouldn't let her. She's free now.
Keep running Teana. You don't have to stop.
Go.
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