TO TO MY SON CHARLIE - WHO ISN'T AFRAID TO HUG LIKE HE REALLY MEANS IT!

Charlie, you came last in the line of the Brown household. With your birth, came a test of faith. In your young years, up through the age of accountability, and into adolescence your experiences were laced with the burden of fighting for your life and enduring many things that were not fair. You fought the good fight and won your adulthood. Make no mistake, your lack of secular abilities, because of that fight, has no baring on the spiritual abilites you can give through the Priesthood of God. You, my son have the potential to be the strongest of us all, through the experiences you have had and the life you can choose to live from this moment on. The gospel is simple and so are you, Charlie. Life is not fair but Heavenly Father is. Nothing will be withheld if you are obedient and willing to sacrifice. You may have to wait longer but the blessings will come as you are faithful. I love you very much and this essay, although dramatized to get the grade in Composition class, holds very much the truths and feelings that I felt in those first few days in the hospital with you. I love you, Mom

AN ESSAY FOR MY SON CHARLE
My young son looks weak and wounded as he pushes the towering intravenous pole down the hallway - all by himself. A puffy face, red swollen eyes, and cheeks stained with streaks made from hot descending tears reveal the slow and intimate struggle the nurse had finding the tiny vein. He moves his small frame toward the reward of the playroom while clinging to the pole as if it were a battle flag. He looks taller and more victorious than any soldier returning from war and I come to the realization that I am witnessing the birth of a wise old man who is only three years old. He goes by the name of Charlie.

The time has come that I have dreaded all afternoon. Charlie must be told that one of the things he will have to sacrifice is his beloved rat-tail. With his short, brown hair lying close to his head and ears like half moons on either side, he will turn 180 degrees at a moments notice to proudly display the inch long lock of hair located at the base of his skull. The tumor looms beneath the beloved possession and the area must be shaved for the impending surgery. I know it is the one thing that means the most to him because it makes him like his big brother Nick. It gives him the honor of being cool and somehow includes him even though he's too young to be in the club. After all, you must have a rat-tail to earn the priviledge of being a Rat-Tail!

My heart is heavy in my chest as I try to explain a necessary evil, only to end up saying what is always said when life isn't fair. " I am so sorry, Charlie". I look in his brown eyes as they widen and give hint to his sense of helplessness and horror while he reaches up with his finger and softly touches a tear in the corner of my eye. I am catching another glimpse of the wise old man seeing the agony of another as it glistens on the end of his finger. I see him lay aside the pain of his impending loss to look up and whisper to my broken heart, " It's okay Mom, it will grow back". The greatest love given is always accompanied by sacrificing one's own feelings for the sake of another's. I wonder how this child comprehends what it takes most people a whole lifetime to come to know and conclude that it isn't something he has learned, it is something that the wise old man brought with him. In awe I say, " I love you, Charlie". He replies, "I love you more". I have never heard four words ring more true than I do at this moment.

The sounds that surround a hospital room late at night remind you that there is no place like home and you are not in Kansas anymore. They are echoing sounds like, the soft shuffling of nurse's feet scurrying to each room; the occasional bang of a dropped clip board followed by a hushed curse word; the answering of a ringing telephone at the nurse's station with the same redundant words repeated numerous times thoughout the night, "third floor pediatric unit'. Everything seems to be done as if to maintain a quiet and a reverence but in the end fails miserably.

Not being able to nod off because of all the "quiet", I watch Charlie sleep from my chair. His small chest rising and falling with each breath leads me to a dark place wondering if they are limited in number and will have an end soon. I notice his eyes are slightly open and for a moment I think he is awake. As I lean forward to ask him if everything is all right, I see the windows of his soul possessing only a blank dead stare and it frightens me. I can feel the adrenaline rush as I move instinctively and crawl into bed beside him. Placing my arms around him, I pull him close to me and cling tightly. The medical t.o.d clock which is found in each room, slowly and methodically counts the seconds until morning as my son cuddles and feels secure in the arms of a trembling mother.

The long night that seems to linger like dense fog over a lake clears to begin a day of dread and hope. It is time to turn my son over to God and the doctors. Slowly walking down the endless hallway that possesses no doors or windows on either side gives me the eerie feeling that I am once again in Oz. As we finally reach the huge doors they burst open with the rushing sound of an air gun to reveal a big, young, black male nurse who has come to take Charlie to see the wizard. He is full of positive energy and has a personality that emits a boisterous, fun loving nature. One can tell by just looking at him, that although he could play in the national football league as a linebacker, he could also be as gentle, tender, and loving as an award winning mother of the year. Charlie doesn't want to ride in the wheelchair and the nurse bellows, " No, problem little man". I see my tiny son take the hand of the huge man to begin a journey to an uncertain future.

As the double doors begin to close slowly, Charlie whispers something to the nurse who bends over to hear what appears to be a very important request. They both turn simultaneously and wave to those of us left behind to give us assurance and peace that in the end, whatever that may be, it will be alright. I peer through the window of the closed doors to take one final look. It doesn't surprise me to now see a tiny,wise, old man take the hand of a huge boy to continue on to his destiny.