Scale Die
How I Am So Lucky; Memoirs Before I Die
There are things... that happen in the world, and no matter how hard you try to make sense of it, it leaves you in a tailspin. Never allowing normal to return; Banished forever. Let me tell you my story. It begins in this room, and will end in this room. My story is this...
I am an only child. As a young man I had aspirations larger then most. Sure I was interested in sports, and playing video games. In that regard, I was no different then other boys. For that matter, due to my lack of faith in certain routines and bland household activities, there came times in which a little hounding and finally, the threatening of privileges lost sometimes occurred, if I didn’t do things like clean my room, or take out the trash. Yes, all the regular pains of a growing young man. I wasn’t the best at what sports I played, but I wasn’t the worst either. I would say I was fairly average and therefore, had an average appeal. I didn’t kiss my first kiss until grade ten. That was much later then my friends who were sucking face from way back in grade seven. The girl I was so lucky to have kiss was incredible, and that isn’t just my opinion. So fantastic a person, I felt then that she was way beyond the place were I ought not to have been. Yet she was as taken by me as I was her. Mary is her name. And she and I dated all of the way through to grade twelve. That, my friends, was two years of simple adoration. It is still baffling what she must of seen in me. We might have continued on forever, if not for circumstance rearing its formable head. Another heart added to the list of hearts I would unwantingly hurt. But that is a part of the story I will have to hold back for now. There is too much to tell between that and this.
As I said, I had aspirations that were very large. I wanted to become a teacher. Not just a regular teacher, though ‘regular’ probably isn’t a fair word. Teachers, in my mind, are amongst the most powerful influences that shape the world of human thought. The melding pot of human thinking is what we compare ourselves with and fashion ourselves after. I wanted to be that and more. I wanted to teach people how to recognize life and to never be lulled to sleep. I wanted to teach on some grand scale, to people everywhere and not just in a classroom, to question the questions we are taught to ask. To think about the relationship between the moment and the moments past and yet to come. I wanted to help people see and understand exactly where I felt we stood, outside and away from where I felt our countries leaders told us we stood. You see, in this way, I was very different then my friends. But I was always conscious not to overwhelm my friends with my ideas. I had learned early on not to be pushy with my feelings and thoughts in this matter. It would only serve to drive people away, if not managed just so. I like to think I stumbled across a bridge that connected my aspirations with how I related to my friends and the world around me. I like to think I had things well in hand, and was on the right road to achieve my goals and aspirations. But the world is full of surprises isn’t it. And there is little one can do when the world pulls a fast one one you.
Let me tell you about my parents. Two very wonderful people. Attractive and well rounded, they have always been sensible and happy people. I am proud to have been born from them. Obviously, we don’t get to choose where we are born, or who we are born from. Atleast I think we don’t have that choice. All the more reason to be aware and appreciative of our parents, and not just take them for granted. I know my mom and dad have always been as proud of me, as proud of me as I am of them. And I truly feel that is as it should be. It pains me to know what pain is in store for them. Pain at the cost of random occurrences. Pain because I drew an unlucky card. Oh, how that hurts. It hurts more then any procedure or operation. Everyday I look into their eyes, and I see through the brave front they present. A front that is suppose to be for me to feel better. And, in turn, I do my best to give back that same front. So maybe they might feel better to. I am not alone very often, but when I am, it is hard not to feel angry about all of this. It isn’t for me I am angry. It is for what my family, my girlfriend, and my friends are going to have to go through. That is what stirs my anger.
I was accepted to all the universities I applied to. There were three that even offered scholarships to attend their programs. I was so pleased to have these choices. More so, I was so very happy to see the happiness on my parents faces and in their eyes when I showed them. You should have been there. The two of them sitting across from me at the kitchen table. Both wore their serious faces, the faces they seem to reserve for moments like this; Moments that would direct my future. Then after I slid my acceptance letters over to them, and in nonchalant tones, I asked what their thoughts were on helping me figure out which place would give me the best leg up in the world. Which might help me most in helping the world be a better place. Silence hung heavy. They looked at each letter, there were seven of them, then looked at one another. It was as though I wasn’t even there across from them, at the same table. Then they both slowly looked to me, there heads turning in unison. Their eyes were bright and shiny and wet. The silence was shattered by my mom’s sudden lunge from her chair. She was like a cat, she was so fast. She was hugging me and crying and telling me how proud she was of me. Her crying was contagious, I began to cry tears of happiness with her. I didn’t even notice at what point my dad had joined the hug and was crying with mom and me. Imagine that, the three of us hugging at the kitchen table. Incoherent sounds and sobbing and laughing. Heads moving back, to take long looks into each other’s eyes, then back into that unabashed hugging. If I had only one memory that I was allowed to take with me, one memory that I could revisit throughout all time, that would be the memory I would chose to take. It was so wonderful, those moments we all hugged and cried and laughed. No barriers, no holding back, just a grand sort of love and happiness spread evenly through each of us. That brings a tear to my eye now, as I tell you about it. Man oh man how much I love them both.
My girlfriend, Mary, was accepted to three universities. All three were close to the three universities my parents and I had narrowed down for me. That was good. That was very good. I had terribly hard feelings about making choices that would take me away from my Mary. I thanked the powers of chance for granting this favor. Mary and I seemed destined to continue in our pursuit of life, without having to separate and lose our wonderful young love in the process. But chance wears many impartial faces. Even now I marvel at how fast one can go from being thankful, to being numb and angry. You just don’t know what chance has in store, just around the next bend. My poor Mary. Sometimes I wish she hadn’t met me in grade ten. Then she would not have to stand by my side, with my mom and my dad, a watch me in these final moments. But then again, I can’t imagine her not having met me, and loving me. She has brought so much to my world. I may still be young when it comes to knowledge of love between a male and a female, but I know what I know. And I know I love her for teaching me how to love someone more then I love myself. It isn’t like how I love my parents. Its different. Mary has made me better then I would have been without her. Maybe I am still a little selfish. Though for her sake I may wish she didn’t fall in love with me, so she wouldn’t face the pain she faces now, I can not truly say I really mean that. I want Mary to be here with me. I want her to my very last breath. I don’t want to go away from her. Please, excuse me for a few moments. I can no longer fight back these tears.
Two weeks ago I was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. It is an aggressive cancer that is incurable. It hits only 0.3 percent of the population world wide. And I managed to fall into that 0.3 percent. The symptoms began like a cold. I don’t get sick very often, but I do catch cold from time to time. It was when the cold hung on for the second week, and I felt more and more fatigued, that my parents became alarmed. Even then, chance worked for and against me. They could have missed my cancer easily, being as exceedingly rare as it is. But a young doctor who just presented a large research paper on the cancer I have, happened to be the one who checked me out. If not for her, I would have accelerated to death very quickly, without the opportunity to say goodbye to those whom I love. That doctor, a very nice woman with a wonderful sense of humor, granted me time to do the things I want to do, before I die. One of which is this story I write now. So yet again, chance and its many faces, some smiling, some frowning; Forever a puzzling thing with no loyalty and no predictability.
I purposely am vague about my cancer. I don’t want this to be about being sick or about that sickness itself. I want this, my memoirs, to be about who I am, who the people I love are, and about making peace with life; No matter what chance delivers to us. I am in my last moments. The doctor has told me in not so many words. She is truly a gem. I have come to love her like she is a part of my family. She has often taking the time to sit with me and talks about stuff. Not about my cancer, about the world and life and people. She is a straight shooter and when it comes down to talking about my cancer, she holds my hand, and cries along with me and Mary and mom and dad. I didn’t think doctors did that. I was wrong. It is the nature of this kind of cancer to advance in quick steps. Most often, the patient with this cancer dies in their sleep. That isn’t so bad. Passing from dreams to infinity. I can live with that... or die with that may be closer to the truth. Having the benefit of knowing this, every night before I go to sleep, my mom, dad, Mary, and the doctor stand around my bed. We take the time to look at one another, and take in that moment that is the sum of all the moments that have lead us here. We tell each other all of the things that are important to say and hear. We thank one another for what precious time we have. There is many tears shed in these moments. I am too weak to do much with my body, so everyone hugs over me in my bed. Heads down in what looks like a football huddle, I am in a position that allows me to see every one of their faces in these hugs. What do I see? ...
I see into the eyes of Doctor Susan Maloy, the physician who is more a person then a doctor. Her eyes are green and are very pretty. Like everyone else in the hug, her eyes are wet with tears. She has given more of her time then what was required. Why? Because she is a woman of unusual depth of compassion. In such a short time, we have all bonded as though she has known my family for years. From the start she did not pull any punches. She laid it all out plain as day, so we would not waste time figuring things out. Time was something she told us we did not have to waste. From that first moment, that first admission of what this cancer was and what it would do, a camaraderie formed between us all. She was going to help us make the most of what we have, and would not stand by idle in these last moments. She is here now, while she is suppose to be home and sleeping, for this possible goodbye. She doesn’t know I know that. But I do, and it means so very much to me that she is here. I know it is possible to love a almost total stranger. I know this because I love Sue and I know my family loves her to. And I can easily see that she loves us. Those wet green eyes say nothing but love right now. And I am certain she isn’t going to mind, that I am going to take that love with me when I go.
I see into Mary’s dark brown eyes. For two years we have shared so many first times. If not for her, I would not have learned what it felt like to be close to another. To share in the bumbling of love’s exploration. We both have discovered much, and have had a good laugh at ourselves in the process. The face I see has grown to be a part of me so that I could not find the seam if were to look. I had dreams of marring this young woman. Of a future with our own children and our own life’s adventure. I wanted to do her so much good and wanted to make her proud to call me hers. I can smell her skin. I have always loved the smell of her skin. When she kisses me or hugs me, her scent always seemed to stay on me. That is something I have never mentioned to her. When she reads this, then she will know. Her face is beautiful to me beyond words. Right now there is the tension of grief in it. It doesn’t take away from her beauty. Somehow, it is enhancing it. Oh, my Mary, I will miss your scent and your love. I am sorry I can not one day be the husband that I wanted to be for you. Your love for me is plainly visible. And I know I will be taking it with me.
I see into the soft brown eyes of my mother. I see a woman who is taking in her last look at her baby boy. She is using every once of strength to be strong for me. Her son, I have overheard her say to others, is all the best parts of her. She doesn’t know I overheard that, but when I did, I felt so much pleasure from her praise. I don’t think she could have ever given me higher praise. My mother is nothing less then an angel. I see a soul so tender and so loving, and a heart that beats so fast in helplessness. I see how much she wants to defend me from this cancer that will kill me. I see her fighting back the face of anger and pain of loss, for my benefit. She isn’t very good at that, and that’s okay. I know I am doing the same thing. And I am no better at it. Mostly, I see never ending love in the world’s most tender being. I am going to miss her so much. My mom... the woman who carried me for nine months, then cared for me for the last eighteen years. Her face is brimming with love for me... Love I will also be taking with me.
I see into the sky blue eyes of my father, the same color eyes as my own. I see a man who is unafraid to cry when the time for tears has come. I see my teacher, the one who inspired me to want to be a teacher, who is as giving and compassionate as he is strong and confident. I see his face that is so strong, made soft with grief. I am his boy, and I am going to die. I can see how his brain trips over that. He doesn’t know I see that, but I do. He is smiling at me now. Smiling and crying. He is such a wonderful person. Always there for me, always unwavering in his expressed love. Something I have never told him, though I expect he may know it, it has always been him that I wanted to be. My mentor and my inspiration... my hero. Now everyone can know it. In his eyes, love is brightly burning. So bright, I swear I see prisms of that light through his tears. Like my mother’s love, and my Mary’s, and Sue’s love, his love is coming with me also.
I am going to die and I am not even twenty. Some may think me very unlucky. I am not unlucky. Take a look at what I have written thus far. I am perhaps the luckiest person alive. I am surrounded by unshielded love. It rains down on me. Who has anything greater then this? Literally, I am surrounded by love. It feels so good... so very very good. The last thing I do, before I close my eyes to sleep, is look into the eyes of everyone in my room, and tell them how lucky I feel I am; And how good they all have made me feel. I tell them, if I do not wake up in the morning, I will be someplace else; I will be there but not alone. I will carry the love they have given me to where ever the next place is. They are silent but the tears roll down their faces. Their mouths dip down at the ends, but somehow they make it appear as though they are smiling. It is amazing the lengths loved ones go to to look strong for another’s benefit. I take my time to remember the room, and where they stand, and what they are wearing, and how wonderful their faces are. I am so tired. And I feel okay about going to sleep... even if I don’t wake... I will forever have these people with me. I am... so... lucky...
About the Author
I like to write things down. What more can be said. The stories speak for themselves, or so I think. Ultimately, I am only a road of thought. It is the vehicles of story that deserve the greatest attention...and the passengers they carry.
Scale Die
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i found a 1997 jeff gorden 1/64 scale Die Cast. its a?
kenner winners circle. it has a card w/ jeff holding a trophy. its number 2 of 14(i believe). the hood of the car has "chroma premier" across it. its all still in the package and in good condition
what would this be worth?
Beckett Racing guide has a Value of $15.00 for this car--They were Mass Produced--I have seen them at Flea Markets and on Ebay for 5.00-9.99!!!!!