Loving a boy called Eli

APRIL 22 ― Tall, lanky and awkward, I fell immediately in love with Eli. He had a shy smile with beautiful teeth, which he would flash every time he looked my way. I was smitten, truly.

He had come to the village clinic with his 90-year-old grandfather. I’m not sure that either of them were actually sick at the moment, but the chance to see a foreign “doctor”, as they called me, had meant they both walked the distance and waited for hours to see us, though neither of them should have been walking at all.

Eli spoke good English, even though he was a bit hesitant at first to speak to me. He handed me a dirty piece of paper that said he had a heart problem. I didn’t really have to look at the paper though, his body already told me what I needed to know. His fingers and toes were clubbed, most likely from a congenital heart defect, and he was struggling to catch his breath from his walk, even though he had had some time to rest while waiting.

His heart had a loud whooshing sound, his pulse was not normal, and his complaints about severe fatigue gave me a strong indication of what was going on.

I took him for an evaluation at the heart hospital, an experience that took all day and which I was completely unprepared for. What did happen during that day though, was I fell even more in love with this young man.

He had struggled through school and through his teens, often being called lazy by teachers and his family, no one knew he was sick until just the year before. Even through his struggles, he had a smile and a hope that all would be okay.

I never saw Eli mad, no matter what he was always smiling.

Finally the day came where he got to step on a plane and go to India for the surgery that would save his life. There was so much hope, in all of us. But the days in India didn’t go well. Unfortunately his condition was so severe nothing could be done anymore, he had simply lived too long without treatment, and living too long, meant he would die too young.

But Eli still didn’t stop smiling. Ever.

One day I asked him to come and translate for me at one of our clinics in his village. He walked in, his long arms swinging and a big smile on his face and gave me a huge hug. I didn’t know then that it would be the last day I would spend with him.

He cheerfully sat and translated all day. By the end of the day, he was exhausted, but still full of joy. September was not far away and he had been told by the doctors in India to follow up again. Eli held hope that this meant they would do surgery, and so he held on to the hope of September.

I gave him a big hug and sent him home with some money for his day helping us. I knew that some days he chose not to eat so that he could instead use some money to get on Facebook so he could say hi to us or chat with his friends. I hoped that he would not have to choose for a few weeks.

A few weeks later, on August 11th, Eli took an afternoon nap and never woke up.

As I write this, the extreme sadness of those days are gone. I can’t help but smile, because I know if he was here he would be smiling. He would probably even be cracking a joke about something, that was just how he was.

A few weeks after his passing, I sat with his Mum and cried with her on the floor of their home. I held her as much as I could for her as for me. We solemnly trudged to his grave, just barely covered over.

This was family. We weren’t from the same blood. Our skin was not the same colour. Our backgrounds were vastly different but we were family.

Loving Eli was a risk because I didn’t know how long I would get to have him in my life. There are things I regret in life, loving Eli isn’t one of those things.

Loving Eli made me richer, stronger, and more full of joy. Sometimes he irritated the hell out of me, and I had to call him on it, but I loved him. Becoming part of his family has made me a better person. It has made me look at the world differently.

I remember days of being angry at his mother for the choices she made, but today I feel only sympathy and love for her for all that she has faced, and the choices she has had to make that I cannot ever fully comprehend so I must choose love.

I miss Eli deeply. His smile and his joy. But somehow he remains in my heart always. Not many days go by that I don’t remember him and smile and am thankful that I got to know him and love him.

There are days I’m angry too, angry that he’s gone far too soon, when he could have lived an almost normal life if he had had the chance for surgery sooner, and I probably won’t ever get over that anger.

But for his sake, I will choose to smile and hopefully pass on just a little of the joy that he brought to my life with others.

*This is the personal opinion of the columnist.