Coping With The Loss of a Loved One

When I was nine, my best friend died.

If you have ever lost someone you loved… this is for you.

My most powerful lesson in life was burned into my soul by the death of my best friend. We were only 9 years old at the time, but I still remember it like it was yesterday.

I was really lucky to have a best friend like Jimmy. (I’ve changed his name for privacy.)

He always had a smile on his face, and was quick with a laugh, or to tell a story. He never walked past a dog without petting it, a tree without climbing it, or a puddle without jumping in it.

He would often charm my mom into inviting him to have dinner with us. He’d stop by just as she was putting the food on the table and he’d say, “Wow that smells good; what is it?” She’d tell him and then he’d say the words he became known for: “I’ve never had that food before.” She’d roll her eyes and smile and invite him to stay for dinner. He’d reply, “Really?” as if it was the first time this had ever happened.

As we ate, he’d keep everyone entertained with his funny stories. He was so full of blarney that my dad, who was 100% Irish, would jokingly ask him, “Are you sure you’re not Irish?” And we’d all laugh.

The Chocolate Milk Scheme

On many days when we were playing at Jimmy’s house, his mom would give us each a glass of chocolate milk to drink. It was the kind where you mix chocolate with milk and stir it with a spoon. We’d be playing outside and Jimmy would ask me if I wanted some, and I’d say “sure.” He would then go inside the house and ask his mom.

Eventually his mother decided the chocolate milk demands had gone far enough. The next time she gave us each a glass, she told me, “You have to stop asking Jimmy to get you chocolate milk every other day. We keep running out of milk to put on the breakfast cereal.” I was surprised and I said, honestly, “Uhm but I never ask for it; he always asks me if I want some.”

She raised one eyebrow and pointed her finger at her son. “You said Mark wanted that, but it was you all the time, you rascal!” Jimmy just started laughing and slapping his knee, greatly amused by his scheme. Soon I started laughing, and then his mom started laughing and shaking her head, mumbling something about “young whippersnappers.”

After that, whenever I’d knock on the door of Jimmy’s house, I’d say to his mom, “Hi neighbor, do you have any chocolate milk?” She would reply with a very loud, “No, we’re all out of milk. Some darn kids drank it all!” And we’d laugh at our private joke. Sometimes she would give us some anyway. We told my mom that story and she laughed and started giving us chocolate milk, too, “To help pay back some of this enormous chocolate milk debt!”

All good things must come to an end

One day all of our lives changed. For some reason, Jimmy couldn’t run as fast as he used to run. He got tired easily, and he kept getting weaker as time went by. It seemed like he was always going to the doctor.

We both wore those famous sneakers that the people on television claimed would help you “run faster and jump higher,” and our theory was that his shoes were simply wearing out and he needed new ones. When we told this idea to his mother, and asked her to buy a new pair of these “magic shoes,” she got tears in her eyes. We thought she was upset about the money that these special shoes would cost. We didn’t know what she knew. It wasn’t her little boy’s shoes that were wearing out; it was something inside his body.

Jimmy continued to get weaker as the days passed. I tried to help him when we played sports, I pushed his bike to get it rolling when he felt too tired to pedal, and I protected him from older bullies who tried to take advantage of his weakened condition. He stopped climbing trees, and he spent more and more time lying on the couch and watching TV. Soon he even stopped going to school.

One day I went to his house and was told, sorry, Jimmy was bedridden and could not come out and play. I asked if I could go inside and play cards or a board game, or watch television to keep him company while he rested. But the answer was no, it was the doctor’s orders, because he was very, very sick and needed to rest.

I went home and made a glass of chocolate milk and then walked to his house and gave it to his mom, saying it was for Jimmy. She thanked me with tears in her eyes, and quickly went inside the house. Through the window I saw her sit down at the table and put her face in her hands, and I heard her say, “Please God, I’m begging you.” As I slowly walked home, the realization began to sink in that something was seriously wrong with my best friend and he might never get better.

The Phone Call

Soon after that, my mom got a brief phone call and she became very upset. I heard her tell my dad, “Poor little Jimmy is gone.” My dad held her while she wept. When I overheard her, I ran all the way to my friend’s house and banged on the door. His mother answered and she seemed to have aged many years. I asked her, “Where had Jimmy gone? Was he at the doctor again? When was he coming back?”

She was a very brave woman, and she had tried to be strong for so long, but a mother can only take so much. When I asked my childish questions, it was more than she could bear. She started crying, and her whole body shook with grief. She put her trembling hand against the doorframe to steady herself, but then slumped against it and clung to it for support.

With her voice ragged, she managed to say that Jimmy had died and gone to heaven, and he wasn’t ever coming back.

I liked to think I was a tough and brave soldier, like I’d seen in the movies, but tears began to pour from my eyes too. Something terrible had killed my best friend, something I couldn’t pronounce, something frightening that no doctor could stop. Something called … “Leukemia.”

I didn’t know what that was. All I knew was that my best friend was gone, forever – and there was nothing I could do to save him. It was the most helpless feeling I’d ever known, and I did the only thing I could… I tried to hug his mother like a man as she poured out her heart, grieving the loss of that beloved, happy soul who had meant the world to everyone who had known him during his brief time here.

That night I lay awake, unable to sleep. In my imagination I thought the Leukemia must be some kind of evil creature like the kind you would see in a superhero comic book. Maybe it was like the “rabies” I’d been warned about. Something you could get if a wild and crazed animal bit you. Whatever it was, I wanted to hunt it down and fight it with my Boy Scout sheath knife. That way it couldn’t ever take away anyone else’s son or best friend.

For weeks afterward, I slept with that knife under my pillow, vowing that if that “thing” came for anyone in my house, it would have to get past me first.  I hoped it would try. I wanted to fight it. I wanted to kill it. I wanted justice.

One day my parents found that knife in my bed and I heard my dad tell my mom, “We’re going to have to keep him really busy and keep his mind on positive things.”

The Promise

After a time of mourning, Jimmy’s family packed up and moved away. I was told they were moving because they wanted to start life over somewhere new, without all of the painful memories.

Before they drove off in their big moving truck, his mother hugged me goodbye and said something remarkable. This brave woman, who had just lost her only son to a slow and painful disease, thought not of herself, but only of how this tragedy might affect me, and my life.

She asked me to promise something to her.

She said, “Promise me, Mark, that you won’t stay sad for too long. Promise me you will try your best every day to be happy and enjoy life. You see, you have to be twice as happy, so you can make up for what Jimmy will miss out on.”

“When you laugh, I want you to laugh twice as much. When you love, I want you to love doubly strong. And when you live your life I want you to live it with twice the joy and hope and happiness that other people do… those who go through life half asleep. It will help make me happier if I know that you are happy. Can you do that for me? Will you promise me that Mark? Cross your heart?”

I looked up at her kind face, and in my most solemn nine-year-old voice I vowed, “Yes, I double pinkie swear!” She laughed softly, held out her pinkie fingers to swear on, and then patted me on the head, ruffling my hair.

As she got into the truck cab, she said something else that would help remind me of my promise quite often, for the rest of my life. She said to me, “Whenever you have chocolate, or best of all, chocolate milk, I want you to remember the happy times, the fun and the laughter we shared. I want you to think of all of the things you have to be grateful for in life… and I want you to remember your promise that you made today.”

She waved goodbye and the big moving truck drove away – and part of my lost childhood and lost innocence drove away with it, never to return. I still remember thinking to myself at the time, “It’s not easy being nine years old.” That notion helped me later to be a more understanding dad and supportive mentor to my own kids.

My Reminder

To this day, whenever chocolate crosses my path, I think of all the things I have to be grateful for, and I remember the promise I made, so long ago, to that grieving mother who lost her only son.

I have tried to do my best to keep my word and to live with joy and happiness, love and laughter – as if I were doing it for two people instead of one.

This actually got me into a lot of trouble, first in school and later in the workplace, where uptight authority figures would get their shorts in a bunch and say I was being “too happy” or “too funny.”

Enjoying and appreciating life is an absurd thing to be harassed for.  I can still remember some of those miserable zombies saying, “I’m going to wipe that smile right off your face!” My reply was often to laugh and say something diplomatic like, “Uhm, no, sunshine, you can’t and you won’t. Now get out of my face before I’m tempted to apply my cheerful boot to your whining behind…”

That usually didn’t go over too well with the paint-inside-the-lines sheeple.  But, it’s no problem because luckily I’ve managed to be self-employed most of my life.

To my long-lost childhood friend, I can only say, thank you for being such a good buddy to me and a great son to your mom. Our lives were made so much richer by your brief visit here. In my imagination I see you in heaven, running around in your magic shoes, jumping in puddles, petting dogs and climbing trees … and telling folks at the supper banquet, “I’ve never had that food before!”

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It would honor the memory of my friend if you would make the same promise to yourself that I made to my friend’s grieving mother.

Promise yourself that you will try every day to be happy and enjoy life. When you laugh, laugh twice as much. When you love, love doubly strong. And when you live your life, live it with twice the joy and hope and happiness that other people do… those who go through life half asleep.

If you feel that a constant reminder would help, simply choose something like chocolate, sunshine or your dog wagging its tail and use that as a way to jog your memory and positively interrupt your train of thought.

I hope you enjoy your very brief stay on Earth. It will be over in the blink of an eye. Make the most of it while you can. You never know what tomorrow may bring.

This article was very difficult to write, even after all of these years. But if it helps even one person in coping with the loss of a loved one, then it was well worth all of the effort.

Peace,

Mark Nolan

“Don’t cry because its over; smile because it happened.” ~Dr. Seuss

“Trust that nature will do the healing.
Know that the pain will pass,
and, when it passes,
you will be stronger,
happier, more sensitive and aware.”
~Peter McWilliams

Recommended reading:

Transitions, by William Bridges

How to Survive the Loss of a Love, by Peter McWilliams

When Bad Things Happen to Good People, by Harold Kushner