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Peggy's Paper Dolls

Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>

<>< Peggy's Paper Dolls ><>
 
Brian scanned the walls of the same corridor that had become so familiar to him over the past few years. As he entered through door number thirty-two, a tremendous wave of emotion swept over him, and he had to fight not to drown in it. His sister's face lit up with a vibrant smile and that special twinkle in her eyes, as it always did whenever she saw him.
Peggy was seven years old. She charmed everyone that knew her with her undying enthusiasm. She would talk non-stop to a listening ear, and she seldom cried. Peggy was dying of cancer.
 
Brian was at the hospital constantly, knowing that his little sister had only a short time to live. His average life as a sixteen-year old had taken a traumatic turn for the worst upon the diagnosis. He loved his sister more than anything, and found himself becoming enraged that she, such a sweet and innocent girl, should be inflicted with such a horrible disease.
 
Brimming with creativity, Peggy amazed Brian. She had a collection of paper dolls that she had made. All sixty-two were tacked behind her bed. Brian would ask her about the dolls, but she would always just smile, and say happily that they were her friends. He would be saddened by the fact that Peggy could not have the normal life of a seven-year-old, and make her own friends. It would only dishearten him more to watch her play with the other sick children.
 
Each day that passed was like a ticking time bomb for Brian. Peggy grew physically weaker by the day, but her spirit remained strong. Each one of her smiles pierced his heart. She would ask him why he looked so sad, for he found it difficult to smile, though he pretended that everything was all right. When he wasn't at the hospital, he would spend most of his time at home, alone in his room. There were times when he would bang his head uncontrollably against the wall until it hurt. He would cry, shamelessly, and throw mad fits for no reason. His life was falling apart, almost as if it was him that was dying.
 
It was two weeks after Peggy's eighth birthday that she passed away. Though expected, it broke Brian's heart. No amount of anticipation could have prepared him for the silence that was Peggy's passing.
 
As Brian forced himself to walk through door number thirty-two in the cancer ward one last time, he almost expected to see Peggy sitting on her bed. He prayed that he would see her face light up, just like it always had. It was only the emptiness and coldness of the bed that greeted him, though. He wanted to scream and smash the table lamp on the floor. He wanted to do anything to escape from the silence. Silence was a foreign entity with Peggy around, but she was gone, and its presence was so thick that it suffocated him
 
Then he saw the tiny paper dolls smiling back at him from the wall. Brian found a shoe box to put them in, unable to throw them away. One by one he removed them from the wall, seeing for the first time the inscriptions on the back of each: Terrah, Ivy, Nicole, Amy, Justin, Chris...and on and on. There was one name that stuck in his mind: Jesse. Jesse had been Peggy's first and best friend at the hospital. Jesse had died about one year ago. Then Brian began to recognize more names, and he realized why they seemed so familiar.
 
Peggy's paper dolls were all the children that had died since she had arrived. When Brian finally pulled the sixty-second doll off the wall with a quivering hand, he realized that there was one that had not been there before. It was purple, Peggy's favourite colour, with a wide crayon smile. As Brian turned the doll over and read the back, he was snapped out of his state of denial, realizing for the first time that his sister was not coming back. Tears flooded his eyes as the name, scrawled in crayon, "Peggy", screamed at him.
 
She had known.
 
In his head he could hear the sweet voice that he had known for so long, but for the first time, he understood her. All the time he had been inconspicuous, pretending that everything would turn out all right, for her benefit. (Or maybe it was for his own sake?). All along, she knew that she was going to die, yet not once did she say that it wasn't fair.
 
As the memories of Peggy reeled through Brian's head, he realized that he could not remember a time when she had been truly unhappy. Peggy, only a child, had accepted her disease and death as a part of her life. She faced most people's worst fear with courage, and the determination to make each day that she lived worthwhile. The dolls were a means of remembrance and symbols of life. Instead of mourning the ones that she had loved, she remembered all the joy that they had brought her. Viewing life through Peggy's eyes, Brian saw that she didn't want to be known as the girl that died of cancer, but as the girl that shone like the sun. From his perspective, each day had escorted his sister one step closer to death. Through Peggy's eyes, each day of her life gave her one more day to shine.
 
Wrapped up in his own sense of loss, Brian had let her illness eat away at his own mentality. Instead of being a big brother, he had given up, and now it was too late. He could have shared her life with her, if he'd only realized.
 
Brian looked down at the small paper doll in his hand through salty tears, and he realized that it was not too late. He could still follow in her footsteps, and learn how to seek out the best in any situation. Suddenly he felt the odd sensation of a smile. Though choked with sobs and heartache, it paved the path for more smiles in his life, that he may never have had the courage to find had it not been for Peggy's attitude. He had never realized that he knew so little about his sister, but most importantly, that he would learn so much from her, the bravest girl on earth.
 
From that day on, Brian learned not to dwell upon life's downsides, but to search for the positives that were sometimes hidden in the shadows of his fears.
 
So often do people live for the future and for what "will be", that they forget and take for granted "what is". Peggy understood that the present was a gift. Every day, she would open her gift to discover all of the splendor and happiness that it had to offer. To realize the value of the present is only half of the battle. It is having the courage and the determination to live within it that wins it.
 
Peggy was gone, but her memory, her heart, and all that was expressed through one child's paper dolls remained.
 
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
 
<>< The little Visitor ><>
 
She felt worse than ever before. She was cold, and wished Mama would wake up and hold her. This body hurt very badly; her arms and legs would not respond--she had to be carried everywhere she went. The eyes would not focus properly. For six years she had endured seizures almost every day and had to take medicine that numbed her mind and made her sleepy. There had been many painful surgeries to correct this crippled body of hers. She knew, but Mama and Daddy didn't, that it was useless. She wasn't a long-term resident here.
 
Father had told her that she would be unable to speak. Thus, she couldn't tell Mama or Daddy when folks didn't bother to feed her during the day, or give her anything to drink. Often she sat unmoved and ignored for hours on end. She always knew Mama and Daddy would be there to get her when they got off work. Then she would be held and bathed and played with and fed.
 
Oh, how she loved her family! Along with the parents and brother and sister, there was a jolly Granddad and a Grandmama who tried to be gruff, but when others weren't about, Grandmama constantly prayed for her. Somebody had clued Grandmama in--she called her "My Little Angel".
 
Mama sang to her and made her lots of clothes. Mama would rouse Daddy and take her from his arms every night where the two of them slept in Daddy's chair after supper. Then Mama always put her on the pillows beside the suction machine and lay down on the floor with her. There the two of them slept, Mama holding her hand in case she stirred during the night. Mama woke several times each night and used the machine to help her breathe more easily. She knew Mama had to be tired.
 
Brother and Sister always had time to talk to her--it wasn't important to them that she couldn't talk back. They liked to put her on a pallet, pretending she was their baby doll. When they watched tv, they put her between them so she could "watch" too. Even when they played in the yard and she couldn't, Mama took her outside in her carrier and they spent time talking to her. Yes, yes, she loved them so much!
 
Several times each year, she had to go to the hospital. Her friends would gather close and comfort her as this human form struggled with its deficiencies. Even when Mama couldn't hold her, she stayed close and sang to her through the tent.
 
Now once again, this body was failing. She felt its weakness as the heart beat rapidly, trying to compensate for the fluid in the lungs. She felt no fear at all--she knew the failure of this body would only mean her return to Heaven. As much as she loved doing what had been asked of her, she really did want to get back.
 
"Little One? Little One?" she heard her friends call to her. They were her companions, unseen to all but her--her personal escort for this mission. "We are here with you, Little One. It won't be much longer now."
 
She felt Mama's hand on her face and heard her cry, "Why is she so cold? She was covered up!" She wished she could tell Mama not to cry any more. Mama picked her up and called for Daddy to come quickly.
 
Daddy held her while Mama called the doctor, then she felt the warmth of Mama's body against the coldness of her own as Mama wrapped her robe tightly about the both of them and lay down. Daddy put blankets over them and went to get Brother and Sister off to school. Mama was crying hard now--she seemed to know this time was different than others before it.
     
Stephanie Marie     
   
Brother and Sister came to say goodbye. They always called her baby: "See you soon, Baby!" they called as Daddy took them out the door to the bus. She wished she could tell them how much she loved them and that she would see them soon, too, but Jesus knew best.
 
Daddy held her tightly bundled while Mama changed clothes to once again take her to the hospital. This time there was not the usual delay in checking in--she could hear the urgency in voices around her. She felt the now-familiar needle pricks, the oxygen mask being placed on her face; she heard Mama and Daddy crying.
 
She heard Daddy tell someone on the phone, "You'd better be getting here. The doctor says it doesn't look good."
 
Someone was talking to Mama, "She's looking better, don't you think?" Mama had seemed to know all along that she wasn't sent to stay very long--Mama wasn't going to accept any false hopes now, either.
 
"No. We all know she's worse than ever before. Her daddy and I want one thing made very clear: if she can't be brought back to something better than this, we want to let her go. As much as we love her and will forever miss her, we cannot, we will not insist that she stay with us in this condition."
 
Nothing more was said. The room became quiet. She could hear Mama and Daddy crying as they each held one of her hands.
 
Jesus?
 
"Yes, Little One?"
 
I know you are perfect in all things. I really love my family. Please tell me I will see them in Heaven. Won't I?"
 
"Little One, each member of this family will be reunited in Heaven with you. They will go through rough times of trial, but they will serve me. They will never forget you or what you meant to them. It was my purpose and my plan. There is even a sister you've not met yet. I have great things in store for each of them."
 
Oh, thank You, Jesus! I just knew Your Way would be perfect!"
 
She recognized familiar voices as members of Daddy's family came into the room.
 
Jesus?
 
"Yes, Little One?"
 
Mama doesn't have anybody here for her. Would you hold her for me?
 
"My Child, my arms are wide open to her. I am just waiting for her to step into them."
 
She could hear Mama talking to the nurse again. "Call the doctor and tell him we want the oxygen taken off. It's just making her suffer longer."
 
The nurse tried to protest, but Daddy assured her it was what they wanted. A few minutes later, she felt the oxygen mask lifted from her nose and mouth.
 
Mama was stroking her face--she'd know that touch anywhere. She heard the nurse tell Mama, "Keep talking to her. She can still hear you for several more minutes."
 
She felt Mama's face against her own: "Angel,"  Mama knew!  "I will walk in this world for you. I will see every tree, every cloud, every star. I will feel each raindrop, each breeze, each snowflake, and think of you. I will remember you for as long as I live. I will never forget you, my Angel. I cannot go with you, but I will come to you. I promise."
 
Oh thank You, Jesus! You are the best friend anyone could ever have. I know I left sadness behind, but it's so good to be home.
 
"Well done, my faithful Little One. Now enjoy the celebration we have prepared for you."
 
The earthly remains of The Little Visitor were laid to rest by her grieving family on the sixth anniversary of her arrival. Just as Jesus had said, the passing years saw His promises fulfilled in all their lives.
Patricia Dillon.
 
Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara
 
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