May 22, 2007

• i wrote this entry last year. with memorial day just around the corner, i want to manifest the true meaning of this particular holiday.. for me.
  
  george.
  

  there aren't many people i look up to. in fact, i can use 3 of the 5 phalanges dangling off my left hand to count them all right now.

  my parents' unending, brutal nagging and tempting bribes forced me to abide, and accompany them to the sunday services. there.. i would see him. huge brown, oval eyes and a smile that could light up the darkest depths of the ocean. alongside him would be his mother.. young and fatigued. you could see her aging with every passing week.. the anguish in her face made it apparent that she was exhaustively worn out. she had the most beautiful hair.. shiny and vibrant.. straight out of a pantene pro-v commercial..

  "ahhhhhhh" .. it was a scream defined by pure agony. the pastor would continue his perpetual sermon..for this occurred almost every sunday. he was in pain you know.. his little body tormented by this illness... ever since i knew george, hehad been confined to that wheelchair. a prisoner in his own world. his body was like that of a newborn's.. fragile and diminished.

  "hey george".. i would greet him as cheerfully as i possibly could. in away, i started to enjoy my sunday trips to church because i got to see this extraordinary kid.. but it was a very lugubrious sight.. the sunken in face, infested with these dark circles made him difficult to look at.. his body was deteriorating.. a lot of the younger children were afraid of him.. they didn't know any better. i know he knew he was"different".. but it didn't phase him.. not one bit. he was so mature..

  "hi, angie noona.." george whispered with all his might as his eyes were focused on the kids running around outside. if he wanted to talk, i responded. but i never knew what to say.. so i refrained from initiating a conversation. what was i supposed to say.. i liked beingin his presence. we would just sit there.. he was great company.. even though we exchanged very few words.

  "i want to see my daddy.." he would faintly utter while looking in the opposite direction to avoid eye contact.. never once did i hear him complain about anything. not the pain.. not wanting to be "normal".. nada. the only thing this child wanted more than anything was to see his dad again..

  you see.. george was diagnosed with brain cancer when he was about one. an inoperable tumor robbed him of his chance to live..he however.. was a fighter.. astonishing medical professionals, he fought with every ounce of energy that was left in that diminutive bodyof his. george was like.. the little engine that could.

  thanksgiving eve.. everyone gathered around the splendiferous table. it was cluttered with various dishes that the women of our congregation had prepared all day. george was to be unseen.. upstairs in his toy flooded room he laid helplessly. a feeding tube implanted into his discolored neck.. his eyes, glued to the ceiling. at this point george's jaw had entirely shut down.. restricting him from opening those tiny, thin lips. i sat on the side of the bed.. he knew i was there.. but couldn't respond. i remember this day like it was yesterday.. because.. this is the one time in my life where i prayed the absolute hardest that i possibly could. i shoved every negative thought.. every negative energy that i had inmy body aside.. i shut my eyes as tightly as i could.. and clenched my fists until my nails were engraved in my palms.. "God.. please.. help him.. please.. he's just a child.."

  george made it past that thanksgiving. his destiny however, was irrevocable for it was already foreordained.. the following year, on memorial day his body inevitably gave up. we as a nation gather on this day to honor and remember this country's heroes, the fallen soldiers. me.. i honor my hero.. george. 

  • 1:31 pm
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