A Friend of His Own

by Hillary Key

Once again we walked to our car parked under a night sky. Once again we left the hospital without our newborn for a long night of separation. On this particular night the rain was heavy. My husband was quiet and careful behind the wheel. I do not recall what made me think of it, but I interrupted the silence with, "He's going to be the child that kids make fun of." Even then I wondered if our sweet baby boy would ever have a friend.

Five years later, the night before Bennett's first day of kindergarten, unable to sleep I prayed he would make a friend of his own. At five, Bennett's friends were therapists, family, and friends of the family. Each one was treasured, but not the only friends a boy should have.

Here's the thing, maneuvering socially among peers as a toddler unable to toddle left him out of the brotherhood built on roughhousing. And with the need for Mom or Dad to translate his speech or to facilitate play, even the most nurturing playmate would, and still will, move on after a short period of time.

So I prayed he would somehow, independent of Mom, make a friend of his own.

We soon came to see what we had hoped. There are no obstacles to true friendship.

"Gab-ee-ell" (Gabrielle)... Bennett could not say her name without lighting up, and he was lighting up a lot. At the same time, Bennett's name became popular in Gabrielle's home. Bennett had a friend of his own, and I gained a dear friend as well in Gabrielle's mom, Johanna. We would wait together for our kids to be wheeled out at the end of the school day. Usually side by side and, both with excited greetings for mom. Bennett would wiggle and kick while Gabrielle would smile with arms lifted for hello hugs. Their greeting for one another was not much different. With joy uninhibited, Bennett would kick his feet and Gabrielle would flap her hands, flailing limbs everywhere. But departure was hard.

As Johanna would back out of the adjacent parking space, Bennett would insist that he should be going home with Gabrielle and Ms. Johanna, without Mama (adamant in a 7-year old way, pitching a fit in a 2-year old way). He had been to their house before, with Mama, as Gabrielle's first official play date, and she had been to our home as well. Mama had as much fun as Bennett, much to his chagrin.

"Ms. Johanna is not your friend," Bennett announced later at home following a play date. "What?" I was perplexed.

Huffy and jealous Bennett admitted he did not want us to be friends. Because they needed our assistance to play, our socializing was taking away from Bennett and Gabrielle time, and besides this was his friend, a friend of his own.

He agreed to my new friendship if I agreed to cut down on the girl talk during his play dates.

This coveted friendship has helped to inspire my only child to care about the needs of someone else. Bennett had become an advocate, only wanting the best for his friend. Anything proven to be beneficial to Bennett, he wanted to share with Gabrielle... his vitamins, Miracle League Baseball, his wonderful speech therapist, "Ms. Betsy." He reminded me on occasion that I need to share this information with Ms. Johanna.

Last summer Gabrielle put in hours of rehearsal to learn a dance choreographed by her Occupational Therapist. She would be performing at Phillips Arena in Atlanta as part of the Children's Healthcare Summer Games. I told Bennett about it expecting pure excitement in return. To my surprise, his excitement diminished quickly into a look of concern. "Is she nervous?" he wondered. "I don't know," I replied, but I knew I better find out. We both knew Gabrielle liked to dance. After all, they had danced before.

The two had put their flailing limbs in and out during the hokey pokey, to a clumsy occupella rendition performed by Johanna and myself. They had lost themselves in High School Musical, cheering for the Wildcats from our den floor. And once, in Chick-fil-a, Bennett reached out his hand for Gabrielle's for an impromptu dance to some background music no one else noticed. Johanna encouraged Gabrielle to take Bennett's hand, and for a moment their clasped hands swung between two wheel chairs, turning french fried plastered floors into a ballroom.

"I want to see Gabrielle dance." Bennett said over and over harassing me for the details each time. Again, I knew I better find out.

There is no way we would have missed that performance. Along with Gabrielle's family and myself, Bennett sat mesmerized from his oversized arena seat. "She's not nervous," he whispered proudly. She was so beautiful and confident. I don't think Hannah Montana could have compared to Gabrielle that day as far as Bennett was concerned.

This past fall, Bennett and Gabrielle started first grade together, for the second go around. I was not excited about the repeat but comforted that they would go through together. Unfortunately, we did not get to be a part of many sweet after school greetings. Gabrielle started spending more time in the hospital than at school from complications foreign to her spina bifida.

We were hoping to have a play date over Christmas break. Gabrielle's health was too fragile, so Johanna suggested a phone call. Bennett had called Gabrielle a couple of times before. His speech was so fast and excited I could not always decipher it. And Gabrielle could not always understand or hear it. It did not matter. They were both happy just to have been on the phone with one another. So we called the day after Christmas and Bennett sang a well rehearsed "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" to Gabrielle, his friend.

On New Years Eve, Gabrielle passed away.

There are no words for the unimaginable. Departure is hard.

A few nights ago, just before Bennett fell asleep, he asked, "Mama, what do you think Gabrielle is doing now?"

"I don't know. What do you think?," I asked tenderly.

"Dancing and singing," he answered.

As I write this I am thinking of how beautiful and confident she must look doing it.

Hillary Key is a full-time mom, and lives with her husband, Jeff, and son, Bennett, in Roswell, Georgia. She received her bachelor's degree in graphic arts from The University of South Carolina in 1992. Hillary had two short stories published in 2006 in Special Strength for Special Parents by Nina Fuller. She enjoys painting, reading, and being a daily guest star on The Bennett Show, broadcast "live" from her living room, produced by the imagination of her son. Bennett, the host and creator, is doing extraordinarily well. He is enjoying good health, sweet friendships, and a new stage built into the corner of his room by special fans. His recent memorable performances include standing on his own for a few seconds (on stage, of course) and learning to drive his new "fully loaded" power chair.