Wednesday, December 15, 2010

A Story to Share

I was hoping to upload and post a few recent pics on here. However, since I am on the sick side of some sort of bug and I still have about a million and one things I need to be doing right now (none of which really includes blogging), I thought I'd cheat a bit and share an old blog story and photos. I originally posted these on Facebook, and I believe that this tragedy took place late last March. This is the tale of Stanley.

Last night we suffered a tragedy. Our dear friend, Stanley, passed away. It was inevitable, I suppose, that one such as he should die at such a relatively young age. But even knowing his chances for a long life were slim, we were still surprised by his sudden departure. It was as if one minute he was there, bobbing his way around the house, just as he had done every day for the past three or four weeks, (which, as it would happen, was the sum total of his life) and the next moment *POP!* he was gone.
It was really quite a misfortune, the way Stanley died. In a brief and unexpected encounter with Little Bear, Stanley became injured and was left, as Peanut put it best, “like a fruit”. Misshapen and deformed, Stanley was not the same. Oh, sure, he tried to put on a brave face, his smile was as big and bright as it had ever been. But, he just wasn’t Stanley anymore. After much wailing and many tears of sorrow over the loss of his very best friend by his own brother’s hands, Peanut did the only humane thing he could do for poor Stanley, “It was my only choice.” Peanut later told us. With a swift and mighty blow from his powerful, plastic sword, Stanley was no more. With tear-filled eyes, Peanut held limp, little Stanley one last time, the life of his smiling, small friend now vanished, the joy from their weeks together, now deflated.
Who would have ever guessed that such a deep and emotional bond could have formed between a little boy and his goofy little pal in just a matter of weeks? And yet it did. Wherever Peanut went within our house or car, chances were that Stanley would come, too. Even at bedtime, Stanley could be found bouncing on the bed or plopped on the floor, waiting for his friend to play with him again the next morning. Yes, we will certainly miss Stanley and his ever-present smile. We will miss Peanut’s stories of the adventures he had with “my boy ‘tanley”. Even now, over 24 hours later, Peanut is still very much grieving for his favorite friend to snuggle with at night. But Stanley is gone. Tucked away in a little corner of a jewelry box, he is close enough that Phoenix knows he is still nearby but kept safe from any future danger.
So, Stanley is gone. Such is the life of a smallish, red balloon-turned-imaginary-best-friend; short-lived but wonderfully sweet. Good-bye, Stanley.

Stanley Balloon
February 26, 2010
to
March 24, 2010

Peanut, saying his final good-bye to Stanley, while holding on to Stanley Green
(They were all named Stanley, but only Red Stanley was more than just a
balloon but was indeed a dear friend)

This was the face of absolute sorrow.


THE END



Now, nearly nine months later, Peanut still misses his Stanley. When picking out balloons for his birthday party last month, he absolutely refused the idea of getting a pack of lovely, multi-colored balloons because, after careful inspection by Peanut himself, he discovered that of all the colors that the package came with, it was missing red. Or, as Peanut put it, "It's missing 'tanley." We finally found a package that had all red balloons, so we have had a few Stanley-friends this month (all of which Peanut now names "Stanley Number ##"). None, however, have come close to being the friend his original Red Stanley was or having the adventures that Peanut and the original Stanley supposedly had.  I guess best friends simply cannot be replaced.

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