A Handful of Play Sand
Matthew walked through the park, a light-hearted smile on his face. A green plastic pail was gripped loosely in one hand, a fluorescent yellow shovel in the other. His short brown hair gave off a glint in the warm summer sun, and his freckles shown brightly on his grinning face.
He was, of course, heading for the sandbox in the middle of the park, his favorite spot. His mother sat on a park bench several yards away, reading a copy of People; he liked having her there.
When he reached the sandbox, he removed his shoes and socks and immediately shoved his feet into the sand. He wiggled his toes and laughed, feeling the gritty tan grains of play sand between his tiny toes. Then he set to work. He plopped down, and began to labor on his masterpiece. Matt scooped up a shovelful of warm sand and threw it into his bucket. He continued with this until the pail was full to the brim and overturned it, dumping the contents onto the spot of his choosing.
After several shovelfuls of sand were put into his second bucket, a girl approached the sandbox in which Matt was working. Her flaming red hair just hit her shoulders, and her blue eyes looked shy somehow. She had a shovel and pail clutched against her faded overalls, only her sand things were both dark crimson. "Can I play?" she asked.
"Sure," Matt replied, and at that, the little girl plopped down across the sandbox from him.
"I'm Ginny," she told them, already beginning to fill her bucket.
"My name's Matt," he said, a warm smile on his face.
Ginny looked up and smiled. "So what ya makin', Matt?"
"A castle. It's gonna have big walls an' a flag on top," Matt said in a smug voice. Ginny looked impressed, which made Matthew happy.
As the children continued to fill their buckets, Matt burst out, "I'm thwee!" holding up three of his fingers confidently.
"I'm three and a half," Ginny added. Matt stuck his tongue out at her and Ginny giggled. Matthew seemed to get over his disappointment and smiled.
After that, the pair played as though they had known each other all their lives. They talked while they toiled, the walls getting higher and higher with each pail full of sand. When they were content, the castle was about a foot high, and they put the flag (a small stick with a leaf glued on) on top.
The pair stood back, admiring their work. They slapped each other high-fives, beaming. Then Ginny said, almost to herself, "This is a lot better than any castle I coulda made myself."
"Me too," Matt added.
"Hey, do you wanna come back tomorrow? You know, and make another one?" she asked.
"Sure. That'd be great!" Matt said, beaming from ear to ear. For a few seconds, the three-year olds stared at each other, smiles fixed on their faces. Then Ginny picked up her toys and dashed over to where her mom sat.
As Ginny walked from the park with her mother, Matthew could hear Ginny telling her mom, "Mommy, you'll never guess what I did today!!" As their voices faded into the distance, Matt took one last look at Ginny and his sandcastle and walked away as well. He couldn't wait to tell his mom about Ginny.
Matthew's mom worked in the kitchen, busying herself with the pancakes and bacon she was cooking. The birds chattered outside in the early morning sunlight, their feathers giving off a glint like diamonds. She looked at the digital clock over the stove. It was 9:00; time to wake up Matthew.
She walked down the hallway and pushed the door open. She stepped inside and called, "Matt, it's time to wake up! I have breakfast on the stove." Matt stayed completely still. She chuckled; Matt slept like a rock.
She reached over him and drew up the blinds on the window facing the bed, letting in the warm summer sunlight. Still Matt didn't move an inch, though he was facing the bright light. So his mother shook his shoulders. "Matt, baby. Come on, you have that play date today, remember?" Still he stayed immobile.
Matthew's mom felt his forehead. It was as cold as ice. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and she screamed, "Oh my God; RICHARD!!"
After a few seconds, and many tears shed by Matthew's mom, her husband burst into the boy's bedroom. "Darlene, what's the matter?!"
Through her tears, she whimpered, "Oh God, Richard. He's not breathing!!"
Richard exhibited a horrified expression, then ran over to his son. "Darlene, go call 9-1-1. I'll give Matthew CPR."
She whimpered in reply and ran for the phone. When she reached it, she grabbed the receiver and pushed her sweaty fingers into the keys. When an operator answered, she yelled into the receiver, "My son's not breathing! Send an ambulance NOW!!"
Matt's parents were in the reception area of the hospital, waiting for news as to whether their son was alright. Darlene was pacing ferociously, tears streaming down her face. Richard had his head in his hands and, if you listened closely enough, you could hear that he was letting out dry sobs.
Neither of them could believe it. It seemed like something from the Twilight Zone or a reality show, and, at any second, the director would yell, 'Cut! Take it from the top!' from behind the large potted plant in the corner. But sadly, both parents knew that they did not have this comforting luxury. This was real; there were no twists, no catches, no way around it. No way out.
Suddenly, a female doctor pushed open the double doors to the hospital room. She removed her green mask covering her mouth and nose and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Keeling…."
Both of Matt's parents darted over as quickly as lightning. "Mr. and Mrs. Keeling. I'm sorry, but Matt didn't make it…."
Husband and wife embraced and started to openly weep. Neither could believe it. Their little boy, only three years old, was gone forever. They would never see him smile again. Never again would they hear him laugh.
Then the doctor continued. "It seems that Matthew had an un-diagnosed case of viral myocarditis. It makes the heart stop very abruptly. He felt no pain. I'm so sorry."
After the doctor returned through the doors from which she had come, they sobbed. Their little boy was gone. He had hardly had a chance to live. And now he was gone….
"Matthew Joseph Keeling. October 2nd, 1983 – July 10th , 1987. Our little angel." Mr. Weasley knelt beside the headstone, reading the engraved lettering to his young daughter. Ginny clutched a beautiful yellow rose in her left hand, and she slowly lowered it onto the grave.
"Daddy," Ginny asked, "is Matt going to come play with me again?"
"No, Ginny. Not anymore…," her father whispered. Then he stood up and started to walk towards the cemetery gate. But Ginny didn't follow.
Her tiny right hand was clutched tightly shut, as if she was holding something. She opened her palm and, inside, she held a handful of play sand. It gave off a glimmer like jewels in the late evening sun. She let it sift gently, tenderly, through her fingers and it landed next to the headstone. "Bye-bye, Matt. I'll miss you," she whispered.
Then she ran to catch up with her father, and they walked away into the beautiful, setting sun.
This story is dedicated to my cousin Matthew, who passed away from viral myocarditis when he was only five. Rest in peace, Matt. This is also dedicated to his mom, Joann and his sister, Katie, who had to live on, despite their broken hearts.
(AN: Please don't flame. Summary written by Lairyfights123, chapter summary written by FallingJane. Thanks.)