I sometimes think about how I could have changed a life for the better. I might have even saved it. His name was Cody Hickerson. I knew him for seven years. My sister played soccer with his sister. We became pretty close during all of the tournaments. The wins and losses, laughs and tears, ups and downs, airports and layovers, road trips and hotels turned us into a family. We were there for each other, no matter what. We had gone through a lot together but losing Cody was one of the hardest things we all ever went through. He was part of the family.

Being the only younger sister of one of the girls on the team, I often felt left out. That feeling always seemed to melt away when Cody was around. He could make me feel like one of the “gang”. He’d include me and talk to me. Usually it was to make fun of me but I felt included and that feeling was priceless. He never made fun of me to the point of embarrassment, just so that I was part of the conversation.

This past summer the team went to regionals in Hawaii but Cody decided not to go. His mom told me I should call him and convince him to go. I didn’t. I wanted him to come but I didn’t want to call him. It seemed like a lot of work at the time. As a result, he didn’t come. Instead, about a week after regionals, he and his dad went to their lakeside cabin in Wyoming. While he was there, he got in a dirt biking accident. He was then airlifted to the nearest hospital. In a few days, he was his laughing, joking self again. Everything was going to be fine. However, almost two weeks after the accident, things got worse. He caught meningitis. Within forty-eight hours, he was gone.

I often wonder if that one call would’ve made a difference. If I had convinced him to go, I might have given his mom another week with her son. I might have given him another week in Hawaii. Maybe he wouldn’t have even gone to Wyoming if he went to Hawaii. Maybe that one phone call would’ve been how to save his life.