Louis

His name was Louis and he was a cute little boy. He had big brown eyes and deep dimples. He sported a buzz haircut. Always wore pearl snapped cowboy shirts, cuffed blue jeans and black with white striped track shoes. He looked like a typical kid but he really never had a chance to be one.

He had the misfortune of being from the "wrong" side of town. For the life of me how a town with a little more than 4,000 residents could have any side was always puzzling. But...it was the proverbial right or wrong side of the tracks kind of town. His Dad had passed away when he was younger leaving his Mom with three boys to raise - Louis being the youngest.

I remember his mom being very sweet. She was a waitress at a local restaurant. Looking back now I understand why she looked exhausted. I can't even imagine how she did all that she did. She was thin and almost fragile looking. She never remarried.

Louis and I started first grade together and were in the same class. I remember so vividly the first day when recess came and everyone ran down the old concrete steps that led down to the playground. Our elementary school was my Dad's old High School. Those old concrete steps were actually the old football stadium seating. Anyway....as we all ran down the steps I remember the teacher yelling for Louis....I remember he turned around...the next thing I knew he was sitting on an old bench. Louis had a heart condition and was unable to participate in the activities that his classmates just took for granted. Throughout the elementary grades I have such clear memories of him easing his way off that bench so many times, being so close to breaking into a sprint but always being called back by our PE teacher before he could join his classmates in play. His shoulders always slumped as he walked back in defeat. I remember him being very fidgety in class and that he nervously bit his nails. I remember how he struggled to read and that he would turn red when a kid would give a low giggle as he attempted to pronounce the words in those old readers.

School ended and summer came and went too quickly. When school started there was no Louis. Someone said he and his family had moved to San Antonio and life went on...as it does. I never heard his name mentioned again. His classmates continued on and graduated high school and headed off to college or work. Time moved on and I had my own little boy...I was home visiting my parents and decided to take flowers out to my grandmother's grave. Normally I would have exited out the same way I entered but it was such a beautiful day that I decided to take the long way back so instead of going straight I veered left and I remember when I turned the sun reflecting so hard off of this massive granite tombstone. I had never seen one so big or so pretty in that small old cemetery. As I slid my Ray-Bans down - I noticed the last name on the stone's backside that was facing me - it was a fairly common surname in the area. I pulled my car over and walked around to the front...I saw his full name on the front....and thought no, that just can't be...I looked at the date of birth then to his date of death. He had passed away about three weeks after our High School Graduation. He was only eighteen years old. I made a turn that I didn't plan on taking and saw something so beautiful under a majestic old oak that it captured my attention. I cried and had to pause as all the memories of him came rushing back.

The craziest thing is that in a small town everyone knows everything, yet no one knew he had passed and had been brought back home. Well, to a place that I am sure didn't feel very homelike to him or his family. I called friends and went and talked to some who still lived there. No one knew a thing. Some even asked, "who"? How can that even be possible? He was not insignificant and I have thought long and hard about that most beautiful large granite stone that sits on a high ground area under a beautiful oak. I believe that he runs those streets of gold as often as he wants. He never grows tired, and he never had the chance to grow old. Hemingway said, "every man has two deaths, when he is buried in the ground and the last time someone says his name." His name was Louis and there are so many out there just like him...we pass them in our rush to do things. We don't take the time to recognize them....we all matter. In honor of Louis and all those lives who didn't get the recognition they deserved in their lifetime we celebrate and remember you. May we be kinder and take the time to acknowledge those we encounter on our ways. It just takes a moment to say "hi" or share a smile.