Sept. 20, 2003
Times Record News
1302 Lamar
Wichita Falls, TX 76307
Dear Editor,
We never know at what moment our lives will be touched. The chance meeting with a stranger or a life lost that might otherwise go unnoticed by a guy some 300 miles away.
Our daughter is a student at Midwestern State University. With the rigors of college life and basketball practice she has not had a chance to come home, so my wife and I thought we would go down this past weekend to visit her. The weekend was filled with typical “mom and dad are here” activities. A trip to the video store for movies and to Walmart to fill up the cabinets, purchase a rug, and get place mats for the table to make the apartment feel a “little more like home”. Saturday evening was the promised home cooked meal with all the favorite recipes for our daughter’s friends. At that meal one of her friends mentioned that she had signed them up to walk the “Light the Night Walk” sponsored by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. My wife and I were asked if we wanted to tag along with the students. I thought what the heck, after a meal like that I need some walking.
We arrived at the registration and signed in. I stepped back to watch the crowd, something only 45-year-old dads understand. There were people of all walks of life. Some wore lime green shirts with the word “survivor” on the back, indicating they were winning the battle with cancer. As the walk began and we leisurely strolled through the campus of MSU, signs were placed along the route to inform the walkers about what successes had been made in cancer research. My daughter and her friends walked along with us enjoying the fall evening.
As we approached the finish of the walk I noticed a couple about the age of my wife and I, walking along holding hands and carrying a banner. The banner read “IN MEMORY OF HILLARY”. I quickly scanned the rest of the banner and noticed that Hillary had passed away in 2003. I moved over to the couple and ask, “was this your…….?” Quietly the wife said, “our daughter… she was a student at MSU…. in April she turned 20 in the hospital”. As I turned to look at my own daughter with her friends, suddenly all the worries of a dad with two kids in college and the financial difficulties of a failed agriculture economy seemed meaningless and trivial. I felt sadness at the loss these parents felt. All I could say to them was “I am sorry”. They acknowledged me and we moved along the route. We all finished the walk, with the organizers announcing how much money was raised for research. On the way to our car I noticed the couple putting the banner in the trunk and getting in their car to go on with life. I said to them “I hope you have a good evening”, knowing surely that under the circumstances that would be difficult at best.
As the weekend continued on and we got up to go with our daughter to church the next morning, I could not get the picture of the parents out of my mind. We packed up Sunday afternoon and started the drive back to Amarillo. All along the way the thought of Hillary kept popping in my mind. Who was she, what was she like, knowing her dad loved her just as much as I love my daughter. How selfish I felt, me being able to have my daughter and him not. When we got to Memphis we pulled in the Sonic to get a burger. I told my wife my thoughts and recanted my feelings. We both sat there and cried. Why? Was it for Hillary? Her parents? For all parents that have lost children? Or not knowing that one day we might be in that place. I realized that even though there are pressures of two kids in college, life in agriculture, the uncertainties of getting older. I thank God that I have those burdens. That with all the fears that life brings, we know that others have survived and are continuing on.
So whoever and wherever Hillary’s parents are, I thank them for sharing her life with me. Their courage to hold up that banner though the “Light the Night Walk” was an inspiration to me. An awakening to the gift God has given us. May you both continue through life knowing that she did not go unnoticed.
Sincerely,
David Cleavinger
