The Boy Next Door

It was a beautiful warm early afternoon. I think it was the start of summer. The sun provided a protective comforting warmth and there was not one cloud in the sky.  I remember the wild bunnies were back under the full bloom of the Lilac trees, toads were hopping across the lawn, and the neighbor's beautiful Irish Setter had her head poked through the wooden fence curious to see what was going on. 

I was about five years old. Perhaps younger. I don't recall being in school yet. I was playing in the sandbox in my back yard. I love being outdoors. Always have. As soon as the sun rose I would bound outside regardless of the season. I'm still that way. Couldn't care less if it's raining, snowing, 20 degrees or 100, I'll find an excuse to be outside.

As a little girl, and you knew me from our neighborhood, I was most likely riding my bicycle, drawing on the sidewalks, jumping my Lemon Twist Skip, or playing in my sandbox, like I was on this particular day.

I was building a castle. I loved building castles in the sand or snow. I don't recall how far I had gotten in my castle structure, and don't recall hearing Rick, an older neighbor boy, walk into my yard or jump into my sandbox with me, but then all of sudden there he was. 

Rick and his family lived 5 houses down from me, on the other side of the street. I never paid Rick any mind, he was just another boy from the neighborhood. Our parents knew each other before either one of us were born. 

Rick was always tall for his age. Skinny and tall. Back then he wore Buddy Holly glasses with thick black rims (that is, until contacts came out, then he wore those) but on this particular afternoon he was wearing his glasses, dark hair tucked behind his ears, t-shirt, shorts, white athletic socks pulled up to his skinny knobby white knees, and tennis shoes. He jumped in my sandbox, lounged on his side, elbow in the sand, his hand holding up his head, top knee slightly bent above the bottom knee. He just looked up at me and smiled, but didn't say a word. Then, randomly, for no particular reason, Rick poked his index finger into my sandcastle. Unexpectedly a worm wiggled out of the hole Rick just punctured with his finger. Rick grabbed the worm, threw it in his mouth and started chewing it. I could see smashed worm pieces in between his teeth. I was horrified.

"Why did you do that?!" I cried.

But Rick didn't answer me. Instead, he picked up a handful of sand, threw it at my face, then jumped up crushing my sandcastle with his feet, and ran off.

And that is how we met, or rather that is how Rick "introduced" himself to me.

And,

We've been friends ever since.




Rick and I at Psycho Suzi's. Our favorite hangout in Minneapolis.  

I don't have a childhood memory without Rick in it. Not one that matters.


Yesterday, I woke up and as per usual, while drinking my caffeine I wrote yesterday's blog, I think it was around 5:30am. When I was finished typing the blog I clicked "publish" and then checked my phone and email.

Rick died 11pm the night before. Just 6 1/2 hours before I published my Thanksgiving blog.

I haven't the words.

We knew Rick was dying. We've known for 2 years. An inoperable brain tumor. The cancer slowly spread.

I thought, we had hoped, we had one more holiday season with Rick.

He fought so hard. He was so young. No parent should ever have to bury their children. Ever. My heart just goes out to his parents along with his family and new bride. Rick married his girlfriend last year. My heart goes out to all of them.  

From that day in my sandbox, Rick grew into this magnificent structure of honor and strength. Truly one of the good guys. He was varsity champion of everything but never lost his sweet, down to earth, boyish charm. He graduated St. Cloud U and went on to become a corrections officer, then a probation officer. And at some point both Rick and my dad thought they needed to do more for our (their) community, they took a class together, a program for male adults in the community to pose as role models for first time juvenile offenders who most likely didn't have a strong male role model to receive guidance from. With strong male guidance, those young male juvenile offenders are less likely to offend again.

Rick and I never dated, never kissed, there was never any romance, but there was a wealth of mutual love and respect, and for whatever his reason, all while growing up, until the day he died, Rick chose to be my champion, my hero, a part of my family, as I his, and I am forever grateful. Humbled by him. The little girl in me wants to cry that a part of me died with him last Tuesday night, but that's not what Rick would have wanted.


Yesterday, today, this weekend, I'll weep and mourn him 

I'll go home and say goodbye,

And then

I'll live,


For both of us.