www.whyville.net Jan 23, 2004 Weekly Issue



Shippie
Guest Writer

A Sad Story

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Shippie is here... but very SAD. I am just remembering a friend of mine. I grew up with him since first grade.

I watched him die December 9, 2003.

I will never forget him.

John was in 3rd grade when he happily walked up to me and announced that he had had surgery. "Look," he said, "I have scars!"

As a normal girl in grade three, I shrieked an "EWWW!!!" and looked disgusted. It is memories like these that will always make me think of how badly John wanted to be a normal kid.

Sixth period gym class. Our gym teacher, Mr. Lindsey, told us to run our sprints. The guys took off first, then girls, same as usual. Then we did the sprints where we run three lengths of the gym and back. Guys were up.

On the third lap back, John collapsed.

Our gym teacher asked him what was wrong, and everyone was staring. The teacher told the girls to continue as normal, as he bent down next to John, looking concerned.

When John's body started to convulse, he uttered little moans. Dying moans. The last sounds he ever made. They will haunt me for the rest of my entire life. I will never forget....

Our gym teacher, pale as a ghost, ordered someone, anyone, to find help, while he frantically checked for a pulse. There wasn't one.

A kid from our class ran to the other side of the gym (there is a dividing wall that pulls in and out) and called for help. Our teacher told us to get away and hurry after him. John's condition worsened, though we didn't know it.

As we played kickball with the other class, the bells were delayed. Teachers ran in and out constantly. It was chaos. None of the kids knew what was going on, and everyone was frantic.

We heard beeps from the other side of the room -- defribillators, we all guessed.

Soon the bells were back to normal, and everyone switched out of 6th period.

I got home and told my mom all about it, and tried to sound optimistic. Then, around 7:00 p.m. the call came. It was my friend, Jessica. She told me John didn't make it, and that he died at the school.

"Are you serious?" I said. OF COURSE SHE WAS SERIOUS! DUH! That was the shock talking, I guess. We hung up, because she had more people to call.

The next day at school was horrible. Everyone was crying, and counselors and pastors were there. I was numb with shock. I couldn't speak.

Several tissues later, all of my friends went to see counselors to reminisce. We made a card for his family, and signed wallpaper, to be displayed at his funeral. It was the saddest day of my life.

Later that week, I went to the calling hours. Our guidance counselor told me and my friend to put something in his casket. I wrote something to him -- I don't remember most of it -- and approached John. A knot formed in my throat as I gently laid the envelope down beside his dirt-biking helmet. I looked away, and a tear drifted slowly down my cheek. I left.

I was still not healed inside, though. I thought about him all the time until I finally realized that I needed to write down what I felt. I laid beneath the stars and scribbled furiously, until I came up with the following poem:

Forever Shining
By Shippie

As he melted into the shadows,
I could see it in his face.
Didn't know where he was going,
It could be any place.

The pain that he was feeling,
I will really never know.
But I know that I will find it,
When it is my time to go.

I wish I would have told him,
That he would Never be grown.
That all his years of childhood weren't wasted,
But his path would never be known.

And as I am standing here watching,
Like a helpless young bird in flight.
I wonder what will happen,
Everything is as dark as night.

Much later I am looking at the stars,
Re-living that fateful day.
And wondering why it happened,
What price did he have to pay?

I pick out the brightest star I can see,
And tell it everything will be fine.
Things won't stay the way they were,
But forever, He will shine.



Thanks for taking the time to read this. It is very important to me, and to all of John's family and friends. He will always be missed and remembered.

In loving memory. He was 14 years old when he died of cardiac arrest.

Hey, man, I will see you playing warball in heaven!


Love,
Your friend,
Shippie

 

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