My Savior's Tears

When I was about five years old, I could have drowned. I could’ve died, who knows? I know. I remember struggling to break to the surface and screaming when I did, but instead, I gurgled water and fell right back into the cavern. Once my feet hit the rocky bottom, I shot right back up, screaming for help. Thinking back ten years later, maybe I would’ve gotten worn out and gave up. Maybe I would’ve been forgotten for the moment. We were camping, after all. Perhaps, I would’ve even died. I don’t know, but what I do know is that help finally came.

Help came in the form of my second cousin, Thomas. He was about nine years old at the time. When I think back to young Thomas, I remember him having asthma. I can’t accurately recall if he actually had asthma or not, but he always had to be careful. I remember him laughing so hard with me and Andy. He pulled on Woody’s pull-string and mocked or replied to Woody’s phrases. I don’t know why, but that cracked us all up. I remember his mom warning him to be careful. He was laughing too much.

I remember seeing Thomas’s hand and his words that are forever implanted into my memory, “Grab my hand.” I dropped to the bottom, but swam back up with new hope. I took his hand and was pulled out of the hole that could have easily taken my life. I remember his brothers, Leo and Mike telling me to dry off because kids could die from being cold and wet, or was it babies? I was shivering, both in fear and cold.

About nine years later and we both stood with family before his grandmother’s casket. I did not seem to be heartbroken, but my heart finally shattered when I heard my savior crying, crying for his beloved grandmother. I haven’t got to see their family much in the past years and we were distant, but seeing my older cousin cry was enough to break me. I was not as emotional as my cousin Cathy, who hurt with others’ pain. And I was not as strong as my cousin Andy, who stood by silently. Yet seeing everyone standing there, hurt, crying, brings tears come to my eyes.

Now as I sit here, writing about myself, I cannot help but feel numbness throughout my chest. My beloved cousin Thomas must be hurting so much at this moment. He and his family must be so torn and in agony. Just thinking about it makes me want to curl up and cry. A few days ago, news was brought to the family that Thomas’s older sister, my second cousin, our beloved Lia had died in a collision on her way to work.

The only thing I can offer their family is my strength, yet it isn’t much. As I think about the funeral yet to come this weekend, my hands are in tight ball, for I must stay strong. I must stay strong for the boy that saved my life ten years ago.