happy birthday philip

On the day Sherman Peabody died, the world turned upside down. Or maybe it was just my imagination. The world already had its casualties and problems to worry about than to make a fuss about the death of a nine-year-old. I was only ten at the time, and as far as a ten-year-old artist was concerned, this wasn't my problem. I just wish I knew how much of that problem would turn my world upside down.

I, as always, didn't find out until the following day. It was a cool day in April and one of those days I could never remember to bring my jacket. It was a buzzing topic, the death of a genius dog's son, how it just wasn't possible. Unfortunately, no one was there when it happened, so all the gossiping that I overheard were only rumors and theories. No one wasn't even sure on how he died. Some say a car crash, others, I'm not even sure they're alright with the theory they came up with. We were on sure on one thing, though. Only one other person was there when it happened, and that was Mr. Peabody.

I couldn't imagine what he was going through with the loss of his son even if I wanted to. I've lost someone very dear to me, too, but it didn't match to what he was going through. I don't remember much of my mom before she died, so maybe that's why I'm not entirely fazed by her death. I don't know what's wrong with me, but sadness isn't something I do well. As for Mr. Peabody, I hoped he'd be alright. I thought for sure he would die of broken heart. We all did.

On the day Sherman Peabody died, both our worlds started to crumble.

I was ten at the time and have had enough horrible and ghastly words hurled at me to break me in two, but I stayed strong. It wasn't something I wasn't used. I was thought to have low self-esteem, after what had happened to me over the past five years. But I had to stay strong. If not, I wouldn't here where I am today. Maybe the reason why the death of Sherman Peabody caused my world change was because I could remember him. We only talked once, but it was enough for my lonely heart to grow attached to.

"Are you new to New York City?" was the first thing he said to me.

I was waiting for my then legal guardians to pick me up from school. Me, being the naive and gullible eight-year-old that I was when I met him, didn't mind the wait. It gave me time to absent-mindedly doodle and not care for a bit.

He and I went to different schools, that if by fate itself, were relatively close to each other. My school was your normal, defunded, terrible tasting cafeteria food kind of the school that the school board just forgets about. I had a few friends there. They were the coolest. His school, on the other hand, was what my school was trying to become. And if by some miracle, since the relative closeness, they were in walking distance of each other.

I must have been closer to his elementary or I don't think he would have noticed me. That, or, he was waiting for his father to pick him up and wanted someone to talk too. Of course, that special someone was me.

I was doodling, when he comes up to me, and asks me if I'm new to the city. Confused the question, I look from my doodling to shake my head no with a questionable look my face. He was wearing his school uniform, I remember, with his bright red hair standing out against the blue of his sweater vest. Why was he talking to me?

"Oh." came his response. His grin disappeared for a bit, with his head down to think, and then it reappeared again quickly as it went away. "I'm Sherman."

I smiled and told my name. We talked for a few minutes until his dad came to pick him up. He offered me a ride home, to which I declined. My ride was coming soon, and I didn't know how I was going to fit in that motorcycle anyways. Before leaving, though, he waved to me. Little did I know, that would be last time I would ever talk to Sherman Peabody for years.

It's funny, actually. How one meeting can get your lonely heart to start working again. How, in only 3 years, so much can change. How fate and death team up and take away someone's life that didn't need to be taken away. He was only a kid. A kid just like me. And a kid who my lonely and broken heart cared for even if I didn't.

On the day Sherman Peabody died, I had to live with the unimaginable.