The Power of Rachel

Last night,  she told a heart-breaking story of a family-friend's granddaughter recently diagnosed with brain cancer.  The girl is a year younger than her own daughter.  The story took the tone of concern for the young girl and her family battling cancer - determined they can beat it.  The story also told of not so-distant days of the young girl playing in the pool with her own children.  There was sadness in the loss of of the unencumbered happiness of children in a pool, doing what children should be doing rather than fighting cancer in a children's hospital.  There was concern for her own children - grateful for their current health, but also worry of how to brace the topic of childhood cancer with school-aged children.

As she told the story, the vivid memory of Rachel emerged and the power of Rachel was once again felt in the room.  Before we start the story, it must be said that both my husband and I remember that sunny June afternoon exactly the same way.  The power of the multiple messages stuck with us both exactly the same way and we have carried the importance of the lessons with us throughout the last 30 years.

What I didn't realize - she had no recollection of the story.

It started simply with "It sounds like Rachel."  The quizzical look said it all.  "You don't remember Rachel from daycare?"  A shake of the head confirmed - no recollection.

Rachel was an absolutely beautiful, quiet, blond girl who had gone to daycare with her.  They had played together and they also both participated in the dance classes taught by a dance teacher who made the rounds to local daycare facilities.  Rachel was diagnosed with a brain stem cancer at the age of 4.  The family battled through the ugly, ugly treatments with Rachel continuing with daycare and dance class as she could. Toward the end of pre-K, Rachel seemed to be in relatively good health.  So, it was no surprise when she showed up for the end of the school-year recital to take her rightful place with the other kids to perform the well-practiced dances.  The recital was great.  Fun. Long, Exciting.  Our family applauded with pride when it was over and everyone survived.  Each child was presented with a colorful balloon to celebrate their accomplishments and we were sent on our way.

As soon as we exited the building into the parking lot, we were met with an awesome early summer afternoon.  Bright sun and a light wind washed over us.  Rachel and her family were 20 or 30 feet in front of us and as we exited, we watched Rachel's balloon leave her hand and fly into the cobalt blue sky.  At what seemed like the exact same moment, our dancer left our side and ran to Rachel.  By the time we caught up with her, her pink balloon was placed deftly in Rachel's hand.  Both families watched, caught-up in the almost reflex reaction.  There were no tears.  There were no words.  Just a five year old watching out for a friend.

Rachel's grandfather quickly reached into his pocket and produced a stack of about 8 quarters and handed them to her.  He merely said "and these are for you."  She looked surprised, but took the coins.  Her grandmother stepped up quickly and said to the grandfather, "No, you shouldn't do that?"  And addressing her granddaughter, she said "Give them back honey."  Rachel's grandfather (a tough old guy) said "Chill out grandma" and walked away to his car. I don't remember anything else from the parking lot.  Everything that needed to be said, everything that needed to be done that afternoon was said and done.  

Rachel and she both ended their daycare experience after pre-K and went their separate ways to kindergarten in their own districts.  We lost track of Rachel and her family, but heard the sad news of Rachel's passing after kindergarten.  We mourned Rachel's young death and never shared the news with our soon-to-be first grader for the memories of Rachel were just that for her.  The memories of daycare and Dancing with Denise waned over time.  For the adults, the memories of Rachel, especially that June afternoon, never left.  The lessons of childhood innocence, the love of family, and simple  acts of kindness have stayed with both by husband and me until this day.

As the story ended, I looked at her and that's when I realized - she had no recollection of Rachel or the dance recital, as evidenced by the tears brimming in her eyes.  The story hit close to home. Rachel will, in 2021, help her better cope with her challenges of what to tell her kids about their pool friend who now fights cancer in the hospital.  She can draw upon her own simple acts of kindness for her friend in a faraway parking lot.

The power of Rachel continues.

A little postscript - During the ride home from the recital - a voice from the backseat says " the thing I don't understand is how Rachel's grandpa knows my grandma."  We told her we didn't think they knew each other.  She then said "But he knew her name."  We laughed - everyone knew both of those grandparents - just by their actions and brief words in a sunny parking lot in June!