My Little Friend...

We arrived a few hours ahead of the onslaught of children - all 74 of them - each with their own stories of sadness and grief. I sat at a table and asked each child their name as they went through the registration line, looking at each face, wondering what their story was. They looked and acted like normal children their ages, but we all knew that inside, they were living with grief.

After they passed my station, each child and their family member went to a table and took out the pictures they had brought of the person(s) they were there to remember. They decorated a frame and put the picture onto a magnetic back. Some then took their pictures to their cabins, while others placed them on the Memory Board.

I remember during one of our meetings, someone saying that one child who was attending was the child of a murdered parent. We're not allowed to know anything more about the kids than our particular jobs required, but there was a small part of me that was curious to know who the child was that had gone through a similar situation as me. I looked at all the pictures that had been placed on the board, many were obviously grandparents, many mothers and fathers, 4 babies. I wondered again, if the murdered parent was on the board.

I noticed one particularly handsome young man who was obviously a commercial pilot from his picture. Another I noticed, was obviously a firefighter, dressed in his bright yellow garb, his blackened, dirty face, grinning. I assumed he had died in a fire.

Later that evening, all the pictures were taken off the board. We sat in a big half circle as we waited for each child to take their picture up, and if they chose to, say who the picture was of, and what their relationship was to the child.

As we waited, an adorable boy, I thought to be about 10, came and sat next to me.

"I hope we get to swim tonight. I love to swim."

"I think swimming is tomorrow."

"Well, I'm a good swimmer, so I hope they'll let me swim past the ropes. Last year, they made us stay inside the ropes."

I laughed and told him that even though he was a good swimmer, we had to make sure that all the kids were safe.

"So you were here last year?" I asked.

"Yea, this is my second year. My father died."

"I'm so sorry. Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Well, he was murdered by my uncle. He had schizophrenia and he came to my house and shot my dad. He's in jail now. It's pretty sad, he's going to be there a long time."

Then his cabin was called and he stood up and took the picture of the firefighter that I had seen earlier, and walked to the board. He quietly told about his father, and how he had died, then came and sat next to me.

I could hardly believe that within 2 hours of the children's arrival, I had somehow met the child I was so curious about. I discovered he was actually almost 14, he was quite small for his age, but he had the most beautiful eyes.

We talked several times over the weekend when we saw each other. Once I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up and he said he wanted to be a biologist - he loves animals - even snakes. As I worked with the horses, he asked me about dad. We had something in common.

On the last evening, we had a ceremony where each child had decorated a bag in honor of the person they had lost. We lit candles put them inside each bag and sent them out into the lake on a specially-made wooden raft as three of us read the names of all the people being remembered. It was almost more than I could bear, a beautiful full moon had come up over the trees, huge, like you could almost touch it, and hearing the children sobbing as the beautifully lit luminaries peacefully floated out to the middle of the lake.

At the end of the ceremony, I went and held some of the little girls, but I couldn't help noticing my little friend, standing on the beach, quietly crying, wiping the tears. After helping with the girls, I walked over to my friend and sat next to him.

"I don't know if you believe in signs, but if you do, look at that beautiful moon. I think your dad is telling you that he's ok, he's watching you and he'll always watch over you. It's ok to be sad, you'll never stop thinking about him and you don't want to."

He nodded. "I think I get signs from my dad every time I go to bed. When my dad was shot, I was home alone with him and I hid in a dark closet when my uncle shot him. Now I'm afraid of the dark. But every night when I go to bed, I say a prayer and I feel like my dad is there with me."

I comforted my little friend until he was ready to leave the beach then walked back to the lodge with a lady I really liked. I cried all the way back, but they were quiet tears - tears for my little friend, and all the children I had the good fortune to meet.

Later that evening, I saw my little friend again, eating his ice cream sundae alone. I sat across from him and we talked about things. He loved watching CNN with his mom and was very into politics. He then proceeded to tell me all the things you could see in the full moon, he and his mom did it often, a rabbits head, and some other things I had never heard. We talked again about his dad, and mine. I told him how sorry I was that he had to go through something like that at his age and how glad I was that I had been older.

"Really, I'm glad I was younger. I had school, and friends, and other things I had to do that kept me busy. If I had been older, like you, I think it would have been harder for me."

I couldn't imagine if I had seen what he had seen.

"I've been kind of mean to my mom lately. I'm going to apologize to her when I get home."

"You know, I bet she understands. She probably knows how hard this has been for you. She knows you love her."

So then we talked about politics, I asked him who I should vote for and why and he proceeded to tell me he liked Obama and why. I was totally impressed. Here was a boy Adam's age who was wise beyond his years.

As it was getting time to go to our cabins, I asked him what he had enjoyed most about the weekend. I expected to hear about the horses, every kid I had asked that question to had said they loved the horses the most.

"Well, I've done some really fun things that I'll always remember, but the best part, the part that will make a difference in my life, was meeting wise adults like you and her" as he pointed to my friend I had walked back to the lodge with.

"I always learn a lot from adults."

I couldn't believe it. What kid says something like that?

"You are wise beyond your years" I told him. "You're going to grow up to be someone really special."

It was an experience I'll never forget, be forever grateful for, and look forward to repeating next year. And hopefully, my little friend will be back. He said he was going to come every year until he's old enough to be a volunteer. I'm so grateful to have crossed paths with him.

Life is good...