| What is there to say? How do you spread the news of a death when your eyes open wide like the mouth of hell in disbelief and horror? How do you tell of a life that was squeezed in only 26 short years? How do you make people understand and feel the magnitude of someone they have never met--and now never will in this life? These keys. These little letters I type are sorry pieces of expressions of something that is too large for words. My heart is washed with a thousand sorrows. There is no ache like the ache of knowing that you will never see a loved one again, that you never will see their sweet face light up your doorway-only a shabby photograph that seems to mock your pain with laughter and a cold stone bearing the inscription of a young man's name and number of years he spent with us. Just a number. And now like a passing dream so fleeting we wonder if we saw it at all, we are fixed on it's afterglow feeling rather than seeing it's indescribable significance.
Sometimes, in life, we are blessed enough to brush someone or something that will impress our lives with its gifts that are all too often imperceptable till we feel the absence of them. Then, like the unfurling of an American flag over a besieged people, we grasp its true meaning and stand astounded and grateful. Astounded to have been in the presence of one so beautiful and good, grateful to have been subject to it's love.
His name-don't read it thoughtlessly only because you did not know him in person; he was very dear-is Toby Coate. Where do I begin?
We, that is my family, had formed a friendship with a young man named Chris Mattson. He was at that time in the Marine Corps, and came on leave to visit West Virginia with a cousin of mine, Robby. He spent that Christmas with us, and after he returned to the military and his home, Alaska, my sister and I continued correspondence with him. He had always spoken fondly of a friend he had back in Juneau, and would send our girlish hearts in reels of excitement with his stories of their grand adventures in the Alaskan wilds. Chris continued to visit whenever he could manage the time and money, and one cold night in the dead of winter we waited expectantly for his familiar, "Hello!" to warm our hearts and fill our humble house with laughing welcome and brother-to-sisters teasing. I think we must have wearied of the wait, though, for Amber and I fell fast asleep with the sounds of the blowing snow howling outside the windows. I remember I was curled in the rocking chair in the cornor of our living room, and she was stretched out on the couch. Lost in some other world, we didn't here them arrive. Suddenly, the sound of boots stomped up our steps, and a familiar voice rang out, "Hello?" With tousled hair and squinting eyes, I made my way down to the kitchen. There was Chris, with his summer-blonde hair and blue eyes, beaming at me. I almost didn't notice the other. Until, that is, a hand the size of a football was shoved under my eyes in a hearty greeting. I looked up. And continued to look up......At 5'10'', I was definitely taller than most men I knew, but beside this BFG (Big Friendly Giant), I looked like a waif. My eyes climbed his figure and rested upon a pair of very merry, green eyes. I will always remember two things especially about that moment. How warm and manly his hand felt, and how kindly his eyes were! It wasn't something that one could ever soon forget.
I don't recall much about the rest of their visit, except bits and pieces like the snow ball fights, walks in elbow-high drifts, cups of hot-chocolate, and the unforgettable games of SPOONS. Amber and I are forever memoralized by our ferocity and competiveness, when trying to secure a spoon before anyone else. At point, Amber and I were fighting physically fighting over a spoon, and Chris and Toby were frozen in a kind-of petrification as they watched us grapple like wildcats. After who knows how long, because we were both quite out of our minds, Toby decided to take the situation in hand. Literally. Again as before, that big hand came swooping down out of nowhere to relieve us of our controversy, and he got the spoon instead. He was so pleased with himself, and smiled like a green monster after a satisfying meal.
Eventually, the visit came to a close, and we went back to our customary lives, and they went back to Alaska.
Winter passed, and soon it was spring. Toby called and told us that his sister was graduating and wondered if he and his family (his two sister, mother, and grandmother), could stop by for a few days. Of course we said they could, and so they did.
For some reason, I was nervous to see Toby again. Perhaps it was because Amber had teased me about him a little. Or maybe it was because he was so tall and handsome, that I felt very shy about meeting him again. I would have died before I told anyone of this, fore back then I thought I was much to tom-girlish to care about such things. Now it seems sweet to me.
Those next to days were spent picking back up on the fun of his last visit. We talked, split our sides laughing, and happiness became the general atmosphere. I liked to observe him where he wouldn't notice, so wether he was chatting with Daddy or listening to one of us, I picked my moments to contemplate him soberly. Of all the things that stood out the most about him, it was his(and I say this truly without any intents to sound generic) out-right-all-American-down-to-earth-goodness.
Singing was a big part of that visit. At nights we would camp ourselves in the living room, and sing out loud hymns and praise and worship songs. Toby had his guitar, and put his whole heart into every pluck of every string. He didn't have a perfect voice, but it was a kind of rugged, soothing voice that hung in the air long after he had sung. I thought it was beautiful, and it was. It reminded me of the untrained, simplictic voices of the Scottish highlanders that calmed their flocks with soft, strains of music.
I took a walk with him. Amber was playing on the piano, and we sat on the steps leading to the kitchen listening. Suddenly, he said he would go and get our mail which was at the end of our drive a half a mile away, but I think he just wanted to stretch his limbs and take in our mountains. I'm sure they could not compare with the Alaskan peeks, but in there own way, they are just as magnificant. I piped up that I would go along, and out we went. He didn't have a need to say much, but it was obvious he was enjoying himself. We talked a little about this and that, and he said how nice it would be to have a place down in the area. I thought it would be too.....
Bliss is short. Amber and I were a little downcast when they said their goodbyes with promises of their return. We took some pictures together just before beside Mama's stone wall. Toby talked with Daddy as everyone piled in the car ready to leave. I think I was trying to memorize him as I knew it would be a while till I could see him again. As it turned out, I would never see him again in person. How was I to know that my goodbye would last forever? As I stood there trying to implant him in my memory, I remember just how he looked. Working jeans and a white T-shirt that bore the evidence of Obed's(our Arabian's) grassy slobber. A pair of boots on his feet, I thought how striking he was. His blonde hair shining in the sun. His muscular body held so nobly and straight. Daddy gave him a hug. We laughed and said goodbye. Everybody waved. And then they were gone.
He kept in touch. By letter and by phone, and one day shortly after their visit we recieved a box filled with thoughtfulness. Pictures of his visit and Alaska, fresh canned salmon that he had canned himself, and a letter bearing us news and thanks. Mama kept the letter in her desk.
The years slipped by....and we heard a little less of him as it did.
I have to go now.....Rae
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