Next Step

I watch history repeat itself.  
     The elders in the family are now grandparents and great grandparents.  My generation has all started families.  Our children are now reflections of ourselves.  The past year I have sat back and watched with complete and utter fascination the transformation that has taken place.  
     Every family is its own little branch, no not even a branch but a tree.  They carry traits of  the seeds that bore them, but due to time and circumstance they have become very different then the family they came from.  Every family has a major trauma at some point in its existence, ours was Derek.  
     Derek and I were born two months apart.  I was the older and certainly wiser one.  He was the strong daredevil type.  I was his conscience and he was my freedom.  We spent nearly every weekend and most of all summers together for the first 12 years of our lives.  We climbed trees, made forts, rode bikes, and conquered the world.  We made plans at that young age for our future families.  We would buy houses next to each other and raise our children together. For we did not realize that not all cousins were this close.  This was just our life and it was perfect.  Even when we got in trouble for the 100 things we did wrong each week, we still banned together and stuck to our stories.  There was no one that could break us apart.  His guy friends accepted I would always be around.  My girlfriends did the same.  
    The winter before his 12th birthday Derek got a cold.  He had a thing for getting perfect attendance every year since he was little so taking a sick day was not an option for him.  For the life of me I could not figure out why.  He played football and baseball and sang in the choir with a beautiful voice.  That year was a little different.  He never seemed his old self.  The cold kept getting worse.  I don't remember all the details of that winter.  I do remember the word that no one would say.
CANCER...  No one actually used the word cancer.  They called it Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.  They called it 90% curable. They called it a bump in the road.  The Doctors said every thing would be fine.  They did not want to stunt his growth or affect his sports.  They would do a nice mild treatment and he would be all better.  This did not sound that bad.
     The next ten years were a blur of doctors and specialist.  Remissions and celebrations as well as the return of this dreaded illness and tears.  We all continued to grow up, but not so innocent anymore.  people were angry and hurt and frustrated.  His older sister felt abandoned and his younger sister never new an easy life.  This would forever reshape the personalities of my two cousins and change their relationship for ever.  
   Derek got to graduate from high school and walk to get his diploma - that was an incredibly hard task but a moment to be celebrated.  His friends took him to senior week and again helped him to feel like a normal teenager.  The next thing that stands out most in my mind is The Phone Call.
    I was at Temple University and it was the weekend before finals.  It is time to come home.  It won't be much longer.  I have never again drove with such a purpose.  I begged God to take me on the way home.  If he needed someone in heaven then take me.  In reality my life did not mean that much.  Derek was the angel.  He was the gift that never gave up, never stopped smiling.  Derek made sure every one else was ok when he was sick.  He comforted  his mom and dad and sisters, reassuring them he was fine even when he was dying.   I got to the hospital at 1 AM.  I held his hand and he opened his eyes and smiled.  It was the smile that told me we were in this together through thick and thin.  I sat down on the bathroom floor by his bed, I wanted him to see me whenever he opened his eyes.  I attempted to study through the tears flowing quietly down my cheeks, falling onto my papers and causing the ink to bleed.  I don't remember when morning came, but people began to flow in.  His breathing was slowing and he no longer opened his eyes.  I really do not remember what time it was.  We all stood around his bed and held hands. Silence had enveloped the room and I could hear every shallow breath.  His big sister finally found a voice and said very simple"it's ok Deekie you can go now"  and he did.
     That moment would change everyone for ever.  It had to be said.  He needed permission to stop fighting.  He needed to know we were ok.  His big sister would bear that cross for the rest of her life.  
     Time passed and the true devastation from that moment would not be felt for years.  I look back now in wonder at how much it changed an entire family tree.  His mother never recovered.  His father became hard and angry which was complete opposite of his nature. His big sister raised her children with such strict guidelines and I do not know if she even knew why.  She watched them like a hawk always afraid of losing them everyday. 
    His little sister met fell in love and married a man that bore so many similarities to Derek it was frightening.  I believe in my heart they were meant to meet.  It was not long after they were married that he himself was diagnosed with the big C.  Had it not been for her fear they may not have pushed so hard for the best doctors and experimental treatments that were brutal to the body.  He ended up losing an arm, but he gained a life and is in remission to this day.  His spirit is so similar.  He never gave up.  He learned to use that one arm for everything.  I treasure with all my heart watching him change his baby daughters diapers.  This was Derek's spirit shining through.
    What I love most is seeing the spirit of Derek in his sisters children.  As protected as they were raised and as damaged as the spirits of their mothers are, these kids are free.  They are smart and funny and wild.  From the youngest who is 5 to the oldest who now has her own little one.  Every last one of them has proven that a spirit lives on.  Some things can not be taken from a family, only side lined for a bit.  
    As for myself I  took comfort in helping others.  That was his true spirit and I carry that on.  I became an EMT the summer he passed away.  I graduated from college and became a crisis counselor for abused women and children.  I played with and gave his spirit to as many of the children in our family as I could.  I was the queen of playing pretend.  I wanted them to know that no matter what happened in life, their imagination would always protect them and guide them.  It has served them well.  I see that spirit most in my own daughter.  I raised her just as Derek and I had planned when were were so small.  We built forts, played in mud and never ever stopped pretending.  She looks out for the underdog, and even when she is not feeling on top of the world she still shines with a light that can never be put out.  The family tree is ever growing and changing.  There were highs and lows before this century and there will be more.  I still watch with fascination at how every generations personality has molded and shaped the next.  I enjoy seeing the youngest of our young, a boys boy if there was one, I can not wait to see him grow.  I am watching history repeat itself, but this time it will go on as it should...