How Not To...Remember

Sixteen years ago, I lost my best friend.  I was 11 years old and he was 11 months.  Don’t mind the age difference, we were still pretty inseparable.  I don’t think about him everyday…normally May 2^nd and June 3^rd hit me hard each year, and anytime I visit my hometown, I go to the cemetery to see him.  Those days suck, a lot.  But for the most part now, I just think of him from time to time.  I think of how old he’d be (almost 17 – completely ridiculous!), what his life would have been like, what our relationship would be now, etc.  And when I’m done thinking about what he’d be like now, I remember how he was then.

I remember everything about Micah.  I remember the day that he was born.  I was in Idaho, visiting my biological father whom I didn’t have much of a relationship with, and Mom called to tell me that Micah was FINALLY here!  I’d been in Idaho for about a week and was supposed to stay for a month, but I told Mom she needed to come get me right away.  And a few days later, when Micah was out of the hospital and ready for his first roadtrip, they arrived to pick me up.  He was a pretty good traveler, even at just a few days old.  I sat beside him for the entire drive, and I was immediately in love with this adorable little boy.

I’ve always been good with kids and babies always especially liked me – but Micah was the first one that I bonded with in that indescribable way.  We were just partners-in-crime, from the very beginning.  Not long after he was born, Micah’s mom went on a trip…and didn’t come back for awhile.  So, in that typical Cammie way, my mom decided that he could just be ours, haha!  For the next 11 months, he did feel like ours a lot of the time.  Micah’s mom was my cousin, and I don’t think she was quite ready to be a mom.  So, even after she got back to town, Micah still spent a lot of his time with us.  Of course, that didn’t get any complaints from me!

I remember his crib in our living room, because we didn’t really have room for another kid.  I remember his giggle and his sweet little toothy smile.  I remember his first Christmas, and that he had pjs that matched my uncle and dad’s.  I remember the way he focused on things and how you could just see his little mind work.  I remember him wearing shark sandals in his last professional pictures, because while we had a cute outfit for him, no one thought about shoes.  I remember the way he looked at Mom.  I remember how he turned my big burly dad into a teddy bear.  And I remember the way he got excited every time he saw me.  It was a pretty mutual feeling.

I am so glad that I remember all the moments I shared with him in his much too short life.  But, on the flip side of that, I also remember everything about him leaving.  I remember my parents waking me up to tell me the awful news.  I remember feeling incredibly numb and yet incredibly aware of the huge shift in my life at the same time.  I remember going to see his mom and being so mad at her, though I behaved and kept quiet.  I remember being mad at my mom too.  And myself.  Because it wasn’t supposed to be this way.  He wasn’t supposed to stay the night with his mom.  My mom was supposed to pick him up.  He was supposed to stay with us.  But she didn’t, and I didn’t make her, and look what happened.  It took me a little while to forgive my mom.  It took me a lot longer to forgive myself.  And a lot LOT lot longer for me to forgive his mom.  I probably still blame her.  But, God tells me to forgive, so I did, even though I don’t really think I wanted to.

I remember not going to school that day.  I remember picking him out an outfit.  I remember my cousin, his uncle, slamming his hand into the wall.  I remember everyone crying and fighting.  I remember thinking about everything we were still supposed to do.  And I remember just not wanting to be there anymore.

So the next day, Mom still made me go on my class field trip.  I remember her coming with me.  I remember it pouring rain as we walked into the school.  And I remember her telling me that it was raining because God knew how sad I was, and he was crying with me.  I still hate rain, because of that moment.  I remember having an awful day and deciding maybe getting away wasn’t the best idea.  I remember going to the funeral home after we got back and changing my mind – maybe getting away wasn’t so bad after all.

I remember his funeral.  I wore a bright red dress with white flowers.  I didn’t care that everyone else was wearing black.  Micah liked red.  And I wanted to make him happy, even if I wasn’t.  I remember them playing Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love you, a song that I played on repeat for like a year, but one I don't like to hear now.  I remember not looking at him in the casket one last time as I walked away, a moment that I have regretted pretty much every day since.  I remember going to the cemetery and letting balloons go, because I wanted him to have balloons in Heaven.  I remember them lowering the casket and me losing it.  I remember his mom giving me one of the little shapes used to tie the balloons down.  And I remember wanting to keep it, but everyone else that got one dropped it onto his casket.  I remember kissing mine and then doing the same.  I remember instantly wanting it back.  I remember standing there thinking I couldn’t just leave.  Why was everyone leaving?  We couldn’t leave him there all alone.  Why would we do that?  And I remember thinking how is he going to breathe?????  I remember walking away and feeling completely empty.

After that, my memories aren’t so vivid.  I do remember watching the video of him eating the lemon over and over, and laughing at his little face when he realized how sour it was.  I remember getting mad when other people talked about him.  He wasn’t theirs, he was mine.  I remember his mom having another baby, and me worrying about her.  I remember my parents deciding they weren’t all that happily married anymore and they should get divorced.  I remember thinking the next time Mom decided to continue her habit of taking in kids that needed her, maybe I wouldn’t get so attached (ha!  Yeah right!)  And I remember wondering whether we would have still moved across the state if he was still here.

And it’s that last one that reminds me that God has a much better plan than I do.  I hate that Micah had to leave so soon, but I know there was a reason for it.  I believe everything happens for a reason, and I trust that God knew that this was better for that sweet baby boy.  And, it was probably better for my family too.  It was better that my parents got divorced, it was better that we moved away.  I firmly believe that Micah leaving changed the entire path of my life.  I really don’t think any of us would be where we are now if he hadn’t died.  And, for the most part, I think we all ended up where we needed to be.  So I trust God.  But, man, 16 years later, I’m sitting in a hotel room, in Leeds, Alabama of all places, thinking about how much I still miss him.  I love you, Micah Zane.  Even though it hurts, I'm really glad I remember.