We have been to the Rockies so many times that it felt, at once, like the most obvious choice, and the least exceptional one. I worried that it wouldn’t feel set apart from the many other times we have enjoyed baseball at Coors Field.
Luckily, I was mistaken.
We arrived to the game hours before first pitch and were escorted through the basement corridors to the the Club House, then out on to the field. The players were doing batting practice and Beau was able to stand in the dugout and gather their signatures (on a wood bat the Rockies gifted him) as they came and went.
Then Ryan MacMahon came to the field.
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Rockies visit during Induction
You may recall Ryan from this post.
When Beau was diagnosed things were… tough. As any parent on the ALL protocol knows, about 3 weeks into Induction, things feel very helpless. Everyone is telling you that things are going as planned, but your child is 21-days into steroids and seems to be withering away. Even the act of getting out of bed to go to the bathroom yields endless screams and sobs.
The morning the Rockies came to visit Children’s Hospital, despair was heavy. Beaudin hadn’t moved in hours, staring limply at the TV. I tried to talk him in to anything and everything, but he just kept saying without emotion, “no.”
But then.
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Ryan MacMahon and Tony Wolters came to the room to visit. The moment they walked in and Beau realized they were indeed, “real-life Rockies”, his eyes lit-up.
He sat up straight and chit chatted with them. He winced in pain as he reached out to show them his best pitching motion.
I stood back and took it in. We were gonna make it, Beau was still in there.
It was both completely set aside and a day like any other. All of us trying to survive inside of the insane.
Baseball became a symbol of hope throughout treatment. I’ve written about it a bunch, just search “baseball.”
It was the connective thread I didn’t even know was being woven. I only recently thought of making a category for it.
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Back to Make-a-Wish
Ryan MacMahon greeted Beau at the dug out.
Beau handed him the photo from 4.5 years ago, when our now 11 year old little leaguer was just a little 6 year old tee-baller riddled with cancer. A photo of two Rockies during their obligatory community service at the local children’s hospital flocking a frail boy who hadn’t walked in days.
Ryan held the photo, a photo that held the pain of the past.
I watched Ryan examine the photo and look back and forth from it to Beaudin.
I can’t believe this is the same kid, I am just sure it’s what he was thinking. I wonder also if he was feeling the impact of his position. The hope he had given us.
It was in that moment, that Everything was Illuminated.
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Ryan took Beau to the field and introduced him to his teammates. They hung off the backstop and chatted like old friends for over 20 minutes. Selah played in the dirt at my feet, Jude complained that it “isn’t fair Beau has Leukemia,” Josh finished up a work phone call, and I held back hot tears.
It was both completely set aside and a day like any other. All of us trying to survive inside of the insane.
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Batting practice ended and we got a tour of the stadium, all the ins and outs including my favorite room: the engineering suite, where all the sound/media for the stadium is mastered.
MAW treated us to a Visa gift card stocked with a balance that allowed us to say “yes,” to every single thing. You name the ballpark snack, we ate it. You name the tchotchke Rockies gear in the gift shop, we bought it.
Beau danced 18 rows up from home plate during the bottom of the 9th rally cry, Jude snuggled in his XXL Rockies sweatshirt that felt, “like a blanket!!”, Selah hugged her new Rockies Fox Stuffie. Josh and I cheers’ed our Coors Lights and finished off the rest of the nachos.
“This could be the best day of my life!” Jude said waving his two foam fingers in the air.
“For sure!” Beau agreed.
It was both completely set aside and a day like any other.
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We spent the night in a fancy hotel, blocks from the stadium, Beau with his signed bat, Jude with his blanket sweatshirt, Selah with her stuffie. Josh woke-up early for a work call and I packed everything back-up to go home.
It was both completely set aside and a day like any other.
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When you have been using something as you light at the end of the tunnel, it’s hard to see when you are finally out of the tunnel, illuminated.
The Rockies games was exactly where we needed to be. Make-a-Wish had come to pass exactly as it should have. There was no tropical beach, no open-air jeep in the sarenghetti, but there was us- together.
Healing.
Whole.
A moment in time where at least for a couple of hours: everything was, finally, illuminated.
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