Howard

A childhood memory about loss, empathy, and a great man we lost too soon.

Recently, with senior year coming to a close, I have been reflecting a lot on all the memories I have had here in Charlotte, as this fall, I will be moving to Illinois to attend Northwestern. Good memories. Bad memories. Funny memories. Strange memories.

A memory that I would like to share in today’s article is a day I’ll never forget.

The day I lost my innocence.

The words of Curtis Mayfield paint a picture of “If I Were Only a Child Again” what my life was like before that day back in second grade:

Everywhere I looked it seemed so color bright
There were never such things to me as black and white
The idea of just going, letting all come what may
Yesterday to the latest, everything seems quite okay
Remember when we were part of that precious few
Everything it seemed was so pure and true
I guess we were just too young to understand
The unselfish cause of death and war and roles of man

Innocence, to me, was not being able to understand “the unselfish cause of death and war and roles of man,” as Mayfield puts it. It was not having a care in the world about someone else’s suffering.

I was innocent when Grandpa Hank passed away in 2009. I was innocent when my dad and my brother screamed in horror after watching a player on Louisville break his leg in the 2013 NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship. I was innocent when my dad was hospitalized for pneumonia in 2012.

On a sunny day in March 2016, that all came to an end. I was sitting outside with my brothers on the brick patio steps in our backyard, eating a 210-calorie bag of Cheez-Its. The back of the bag mentioned that the crackers were produced by “Sunshine Biscuits.” There were little multi colored dots on the back of the bag, too.

It was after 3:30 PM, which was about the time the bus usually dropped us off at our bus stop less than 0.1 of a mile from our house.

As I was enjoying my Cheez-Its, my mom said that she had some sad news to tell us.

“Do you guys remember Howard, the guy who helped save your life when you were in the NICU, he came over to our house last year? Well, he passed away from pancreatic cancer this morning.”

I was shocked. Howard came over to our house the year prior to visit us. He told us that he had cancer, but I figured that he would be fine. I didn’t think a such a horrible thing could happen to such a great person.

Howard Goldstein helped fundraise for March of Dimes, the non-profit that supported my brothers and I when we were in the NICU, or neonatal intensive care unit, after we were born at 24 weeks in June 2007. His son, Josh, was a camp counselor at the summer camp we had attended for years. His daughter was as well.

He viewed my brothers and I as superstars. One time, at a late-night March of Dimes Fundraiser, he made sure everyone cheered for us upon our brief appearance at the event. He also was interviewed for a 2013 Charlotte Observer article about us. He loved us.

His death was the first time I really realized that awful things can, and do, happen to great people. It also made me very scared of cancer for a bit. That day was the day I realized that the world can be quite cruel for absolutely no reason.

It was also the day that I realized that I truly cared about someone else’s suffering. It was the first time I really felt something deep in the heart. The world lost a great man.

Later that day, my mom told us that the best way to remember Howard was to “be like Howard.” Go out of your way to help someone out in need. Smile at someone who may be having a bad day. Treat everyone like a superstar. You never know how much of a difference you can make in a person’s life.

Although I haven’t truly thought about it until now, I have tried to follow in Howard’s footsteps ever since that day. I know many of my friends and family members have done the same. I am very thankful for all of them. I truly mean it. If you ever want to know how much I appreciate you, feel free to ask me. I am thankful to many people for many many things.

I hope to continue honor Howard by modeling his kind, empathetic ways throughout the rest of my time in high school, throughout my upcoming quest in Evanston, and throughout the rest of my life.