Did he know? Could he tell from my actions and words? I hope he knew he was missed when he was supposed to be there? Did he know we really cared?
These are questions that I wish I could ask. These questions were the first things I thought about when I heard of your death, Michael. Our tears brought back memories we had stored of you.
I sat down and tried to remember if I ever told you that I cared, really cared. I sat down and tried to remember if I ever spoken of how special you were to me.
All I could remember is what you gave me. I could remember your cheerful hellos in the hallway in the morning. I can remember your smile as you passed by me.
I remember watching you enter the conference room the first time I met you, and listening to the beep of your wheelchair as it gently lowered you.
At first we noticed the beeping as it broke the quiet of the room, but soon we begin to not hear it as the classes went by. We would glance towards you, and just smile - just glad you were there.
The loyal care and love shown by your Mom and Sister, assured us that everything was okay. We would know then that you would still be there as the day went on.
I always made a point to speak to you before and after class. I always made a point to have at least one conversation. I made it a daily goal.
We received a blessing in return. After each " hello" and "see you later" the life in your eyes and smile remained with us, even when we went our own ways.
I received a touch in return. The "happy to see you again" that I had when after a long absence you returned. The meeting in the lobby - talking about baseball, football, college and life.
Did we tell you how nice it was to see you come in and to hear your chair coming our way? Classmates would often ask, "Is Michael coming this time?" You have no idea how much you were missed.
I would go home and hear the back up alarms and deep inside would wonder how you were doing. YOU were not backing up. You were making the world so much richer, just to be around you.
I would often state to others at home and class. "I bet he was hard to keep up with before the accident."
The energy and life that was in your smile and eyes were dancing the last time I saw you. I can still hear your laugh and your voice (strong-whole-and happy).
Did we tell you our wish to have gotten to know you better?
Now I want to tell you. I want you to know. I am hopeful you were aware of how much we cared, but now I want to share it with all.
Michael, you were a very special person. You made our class richer for you being there. We all missed you when you were sick or could not make it. We all would ask, ""Have you heard from Michael?"
True, we asked about anyone who was not there, and we would keep up with each class member. Very few missed as many classes as you had to miss, and yet kept on going to reach the end. You seemed determined to finish what you started.
The last conversation we had, as I remember, was how you were planning to make up the missed lessons. How you were planning to finish this year. I have thought since graduation that I would like to be there next May, just to cheer you when reached the finish line.
When I was sharing a treat from home with the class, you were next to ask. I did not want to leave the piece of cake lying in front of you, because there was not anyone available to give it to you. I was not sure whether it was proper for me to or not: so I stood there looking silly. (Pretty silly, in fact)
You sensed and saw my struggle. You looked at me with a big smile and spoke to assure me, "It's o. k., you can give it me." I was hesitant, but then I realized I was the only uncomfortable one, and that you had already accepted that part of your life."
You also made me start thinking. I had said several times before then, that I accepted the disabilities of others without any withdrawing. I told myself that I treated the people with disabilities the same as I do others without disabilities. I still had another lesson to learn. I realized I would be learning the rest of my life.
I had learned how to approach and see past less severe disabilities. I learned to overlook the technology used by a person, and to just see the person. The motions made from involuntary muscle control were now just movements, and no longer distracting. I could overlook physical differences without even a thought.
I had not learned how to deal with your daily way of life, though. I had not experienced the understanding it took to have others be your arms. I now know through you and our other classmates, that is just a state of existence and not a problem.
Thank you, and there will never be the right words to tell you. YOU were the teacher and I was the student. YOU were the reason for the class, I was just an observer. YOU were my friend, and I miss you very much.
My selfish way wants to hold on to you, and not let you go. My selfish way wants to keep you here with us. But I know that now you no longer need me to give you the cake, you can do it alone, and we will see you again. This time you will stand tall, and you will be able to walk up and give me a piece of cake.
Bye, dear Michael. It was nice to know you. Thanks for all the sweet memories and thanks for being one of our greatest teachers.
This site is dedicated to a dear young man who I knew for 9 months. He turned into a special friend and I will miss him very much.
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