Until We Meet Again

July 8, 2008
By Bryony Kavanagh, Milton, ZZ

It was a cool October evening. I slipped on my sweater and stepped outside. Ignoring the chairs on the porch, I sat down on the grass and pulled my knees up to my chest. Breathing in the fresh night air, I allowed my thoughts to take over - as I had every night in the last three months. During the day, I tried to keep myself as busy as possible, occupying my mind with anything to keep from thinking of him. It was in the darkness and the silence of night that thoughts of him haunted me. That’s when I allowed myself to cry... to mourn… to remember.
As I sat outside that cool evening, I could smell him. I lay down on my back and opened my eyes. The tears I had been holding back all day began to fall. I looked up at the stars and thought I saw him; his sweet smile… his soft, gentle eyes. I was filled with countless emotions; guilt, regret, sadness, anger. There were so many questions that would never be answered – Why him? Why me? I had finally found happiness, and it had been snatched from me.
I thought about the day he was born. It was a week after my sixteenth birthday. His father was long gone, of course. When I’d told him I was pregnant, he told me that he didn’t want to have anything to do with me or the baby. I kicked myself for thinking that he loved me… that he was the one. I regretted the night it happened, wishing I could go back and change it.
Nine months later, Kale Christopher James was born. The minute I laid eyes on him, all my regrets disappeared. He was beautiful; big blue eyes, pale skin, tiny fingers and toes. Kale became my inspiration, my reason to live, my everything. I loved him with all my heart.
As Kale began to grow into a little boy, I had never felt luckier. Before he came into my life, I didn’t know what it felt like to love someone unconditionally and have them love you right back. I quickly realized that being Kale’s mother was my purpose in life. Every time he smiled at me, held my hand, or called me “mommy”, it felt… right. I loved knowing that Kale would be with me everyday.
But when Kale was only eighteen months old, I began to notice some strange symptoms. He was tired all the time and was constantly suffering from infections. He bruised easily and was often covered in purple patches. His doctor sent him for some routine tests, but I never could have imagined how devastating Kale’s condition really was. He had Leukemia. When I received the news, I felt like someone had ripped my heart out. How could this be happening to my little boy?
For the next year and a half, not a day went by that I didn’t feel terrified. But I tried so hard to be strong for my baby boy. Kale was strong too; he battled the Leukemia like a real fighter. He was brave and courageous, and continued to grow into a fun, curious, happy boy. I was so proud of Kale, and I really believed that he would pull through. But just one week after his third birthday, Kale passed away.
I cannot even begin to describe the pain I felt when I lost my baby boy. Kale was my whole life, and when he slipped away, I felt like a piece of me had gone with him.
After three months, nothing had changed. I felt the same pain and devastation, but I became very good at hiding it. I tried to be strong… for everyone else. I put on a brave face during the day and saved the tears for when I was alone.
So as I lay by myself that cool, lonely evening, I let the tears fall and allowed myself to be fully enveloped in thoughts of Kale. “I miss you so much, baby boy,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “Where are you? Please… tell me you’re okay.” I opened my eyes, looked up at the sky, and saw a shooting star. It was beautiful and unique… just like my son. I smiled. I had lost my baby boy, but I knew that for the rest of my life, I would have an angel watching over me.
Wiping the tears away, I stood up and headed back toward the house. Before going inside, I looked up at the stars again. “Until we meet again,” I said blowing a kiss to the sky. “I love you, my little angel.”

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!