Be Strong
Sometimes
I wonder what my life would be like if Dad hadn’t gone to Iraq. If he had stayed home, played ball with me
every day, cooked us dinner, and tucked me into bed every night with a kiss on
my forehead. But that wasn’t what
happened. Dad did go to Iraq, and I still wish selfishly that he hadn’t been so
courageous and willing to fight. I
couldn’t change fate, no matter what I wanted.
Everything that happened changed me, for better and for worse. And the whole time, I kept hearing my
father’s words, “You will have an impact on the world Ky. It may not seem like it, but you will. I am about to do that, to help people, and I
want you to remember this. Believe,
dream, inspire Ky, and people will always be grateful.”
“Hey
Ky, wanna come play football with me at my house?” Tyler asked, walking in front of me
excitedly. “Sure, but if you want, we
can play in my backyard. My dad can set
us up some…” My voice trailed off and I
stared at the ground, fighting off the tears.
Tyler pushed his red hair out of his face and put a hand on my shoulder,
gently. Dad had been gone for three days
and I still forgot he wasn’t at home.
“It’s alright Ky. I have two leftover Sprites in the fridge. I mean, if you want them.” I smiled, hefting my heavy backpack back
onto my shoulder. “Ok fine, but I have
to go tell my mom first.” We walked down
the sidewalk from school, heading for our neighborhood. Tyler’s house was directly beside mine. At the end of my driveway, Tyler ruffled my
black hair and waved, “See you in a few minutes, buddy boy!” I ran up to my front steps, swung open the
door and called, “Mom, I’m going over to Tyler’s!” I waited for an answer and heard a soft whimper,
“Ky, come here.” I kicked off my shoes
and headed up the stairs, smiling at the pictures of my dad, lean and strong,
kissing me on the forehead as a baby or throwing me up in the air. My mom, small and beautiful, laughed in every
picture. I leaped up the last step and
looked around. “Mom?” I called.
“Ky.” I followed the voice until
I found my mother. She sat crying on the
sofa and patted to the seat cushion beside her.
I uncertainly slid down beside her.
“Ky…” her voice shook, and a crumpled letter laid on her lap. I picked it up and scanned the page. Suddenly, I dropped it, staring in shock at
the white piece of paper on the floor. “Ky…your father’s dead. He stepped on a mine and got—they didn’t find
him until yesterday.” I felt like my
heart stopped beating. I couldn’t
breathe. The devastation and pain roared
down onto me. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
Tears sparkled down my face in a river, but I made no sound. Mom gingerly swept me into her arms and wept
into my hair. But I couldn’t think of
anything. Just those four words had
broken my life. “Ky, your father’s
dead.”
For the
next week, I walked down the halls like a loner, crying at unexpected times,
and ignoring people’s remarks about how sorry they were. Tyler came up to me many times and said
“Sorry about your dad, Ky. I mean, if my
dad-“
“Stop Tyler, please.
I can’t listen to people say that.”
Eventually Tyler stopped and avoided me.
I was utterly alone. I didn’t
know why I was acting like such a jerk, but I did it anyways. Mom was locked up in her own little world
too. And the only thing to remind me of
what my dad said before he left to war was the piece of paper he had left me.
‘Believe, dream, and inspire Ky, and people will always be grateful.’ I knew I couldn’t do it. That was until I met the 4th
grader. I was sitting alone at recess,
when this high pitched voice screamed, “Hey 5th grade boy!” I figured it was another sympathetic kid, so
I kept writing in the dew on the picnic tables.
Then a little, tiny fourth grader ran up to me and tossed her red hair. She had blue eyes and stood tall to face
me. “Hey, I’m Cammy. I know you.
You’re the one whose daddy got blown up.” I stared at her. Obviously she wasn’t here to sympathize. “My dad got blown up too, so stop being a
baby and listen to me.” I turned
completely to face her. “I know how to
do speeches and stuff, so you can set up the fundraiser.” What was she talking about? Cammy sighed and rapped my head. “We’re going to do an awareness money raising
thing, right? So that other daddies and
mommies don’t have to starve and stuff?
They can have cheeseburgers, Dorito’s-”
“Wait, you’re saying…I don’t even know you!” Cammy threw up her hands. “You do now!
Don’t you want to help other kids’ parents?” I did, but I still felt selfish. “You know, I’m working through my own problems
and I need some space, so shoo.” Cammy
planted her feet stubbornly and glared at me.
“You want to, I can tell. Stop
being a jerk!” I spun around. “Fine.” She huffed. She stomped away. “Wait, Cammy!” I called after her. She stopped and looked over her
shoulder. “Where do we start?” I asked, and she pumped her fist in the air.
Cammy
and I worked for more than a month.
Turns out she’s a computer whiz and she made a website that helps inform
people about all the families whose dads or moms go away to war for sometimes
more than a year. I set up posters about
our website and how you can help military families. I got to know her a lot better, and we became
good friends. Tyler still avoided me,
and wouldn’t come to the door when I went to his house. I felt terrible. One day at school, I caught up with him at
recess and walked beside him. “Hey dude,
I’m sorry.” I said quietly. Tyler kept silent and walked faster towards
the blacktop. I raced to keep up. “Tyler, really, you need to listen to
me. I was messed up, man, I couldn’t
think straight!” Tyler spun around, his
fists balled. “Oh, and then you go and
make friends with a puny girl. Is that
how it goes?” I was taken aback. “No, we’re working on—“
“You just started ignoring me! I didn’t know why, until some random kid told
me that your dad got hurt. Some great
friend you are!” He stormed off, and I
was left standing in the grass, my white sneakers coated in mud and dew,
looking as crummy as I felt. Geez, I
didn’t even think about what Tyler would think about my brand new friendship
and silent treatment. I knew I’d never
be able to take it back. Thinking about
my dad’s last words to me, “Believe, dream and inspire Ky, and people will
always be grateful.”
“Yeah, well, I tried that and see where that got me?” I murmured up at the clear blue sky. Tears stinging my eyes, I sought a shady
corner and cried the rest of recess, leaning my back against the cold brick
school.
Cammy
called at least five times that night, but I didn’t feel like answering. Mom raised her eyebrows to see me silent at
dinner. “Hey honey, what’s wrong?” she
asked softly, leaning across the table.
I spooned a bit of mac ‘n’ cheese into my mouth and didn’t say
anything. She looked terrible these
days, her hair all rowdy and messy and she always had black rings under her
eyes. I always felt bad whenever she
tried to smile. Mom sat back and sighed,
“Your girlfriend called today.” She
thought that would get me talking, but I bit my lip and remained silent. “Is this about your father?” I looked up at her weary eyes and held back
the tears. “Everything is about him
Mom. Why did this happen to us?” I said loudly, setting down my cup with a
bang. Mom covered her mouth. “Excuse me a moment, Ky. I’m really tired, sweetie.” Then she just got up and left. After a moment I dumped my half eaten dinner
in the trash and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling before calling Cammy.
A whole
other month passed. I was a nobody. Sat alone at lunch, played at recess alone,
and rode my bike alone, up and down the streets. Kids called me cry baby, wiener, butt face. And Tyler watched it all happen. Expressionless. Cammy and I talked about our plans on the
phone, and were prepared to do our big speeches on Open House night,
Monday. On Sunday night I recited my
speech over and over again in my room, a nervous wreck. Our plan was to stand up, say them fast, and
get it over with. Cammy was really
excited. One day I asked her how her dad
had died. For the first time since I’d
met her, she’d been silent. Then she’d
said, “In the war, some enemies invaded their camp. Shot him in the head. Quick and painless the way they described
it.” I didn’t ask any more
questions. I fell asleep Sunday night at
11:00 and because my alarm clock didn’t go off, woke up at 7:30. Quickly getting dressed, eating breakfast and
brushing my teeth, I ran down the sidewalk to school. When I got inside, I looked down and realized
I was wearing two kinds of shoes. Wow. Smooth move, Ky. Be ready for some kind of teasing today. And I got it, for sure. The guys made up a new one. Tar hair.
That one kind of stung cause I have my thick black hair from my
dad. By the time Open House started, I
was so nervous my hands were shaking real bad.
Cammy went first. My mom hadn’t
shown up, but hers did. A fair haired
lady with tons of freckles blew her kisses.
Cammy gave her speech about her dad and how we needed to raise money for
our troops overseas. She sure created
some tears in the crowd and didn’t look scared at all. My turn.
I walked up onto the stage and clenched my teeth. “Hi, I’m Ky.
Well, um, I guess I just have to say…” I launched into my speech and the
crowd watched intently. At the end I
suddenly said, “Well, my dad died in the war too and before he left he told me
I should always believe, dream, and inspire, and people will always be
grateful. And, I love my dad a lot, and
will always follow his advice.” I saw a
head pop in the door. Mom. I swallowed.
Her eyes were filled with tears and she was smiling. I continued.
“My dad was amazing and brave, so please also follow my dad’s
advice. He—well, yeah, I love him.” Tears streamed down my face, and I saw Tyler
grinning and applauding wildly. “Good
job.” Whispered Cammy. I got down, and
Mom hugged me. “I love you Ky.” She
said, her hands stroking my hair. “I
love you too, Mom. I love you too.”
Yeah, that’s my story. And if you ever need good advice, just remember
my dad’s. Believe, dream, and inspire, and people will always be grateful.
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