The television screen flickered as the news came back from a commercial. News anchor Stone Phillips was the picture of poise and professionalism that won him rave reviews from critics. At this moment, his face betrayed a softer side to him that most of the viewing audiences were not privileged to see.
“We end tonight with this news that just came in. Tyler Wilcox, the Red Sox pitcher that was quickly becoming a fan favorite in the world of baseball has died. He was twenty-six. He was struck in the head yesterday during ball practice and was rushed to the hospital where after several hours of surgery, the doctors declared him brain-dead. There is no official word from the Red Sox team, but his family is reported to be planning a private memorial service. The entire baseball community is saddened by this tragic loss.”
The sun hung high in the bright early August sky. Twelve year old Kyle McDaniel was riding his bike toward his favorite park near his house. A bright, lanky boy with blue eyes and gleaming with orneriness, Kyle was friends with almost anyone he met. As he whizzed by the homes that lined his neighborhood, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. August was usually a sweltering time of the year in Ohio and this particular August was no different.
Kyle's clammy hand grazed his helmet. With one hand on the handlebars, he straightened the helmet back to the top of his head. Ever since he got his bike, his Mom told him a million times to wear his helmet. Accidents happen every day and like every other mom in the world, she wanted to keep her baby safe.
After rounding a corner and riding a few more blocks, Kyle arrived at the community park. The smell of cut grass permeated the air and tickled his nose. A freshly mowed lawn always tickled Kyle's nose and made him want to sneeze. He walked his bike over and chained it to the nearby rack. The park was a flurry of activity that day with dozens of denizens that were either taking walks or were simply enjoying the spacious park and all it had to offer. The park was recently renovated to include new playground equipment, a baseball diamond and the community pool where the sounds of children's laughter and splashing could be heard as Kyle rode into the park.
He was going to get a grape icy at the concession stand but he saw a long line and instead headed off to the water fountain. A few people were in line and he patiently waited his turn. As Kyle waited, he noticed that even though he lived his entire life in this town, nobody at the park looked familiar. Everywhere he glanced, people would either smile or wave at him. He waved back. Finally his turn came to get his drink of water. The ice cold water grazed his lips and Kyle could not remember when fountain water tasted that good! He must have really been thirsty!
As he wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts, Kyle then headed off toward the baseball diamond. Baseball was his life. He had been playing ball ever since his Grandpa Harold took him to see his first Reds game when he was about four years old. Kyle loved being in the crowd and when a home run was hit the roar of that same crowd was like music to his ears!
Kyle continued walking along, watching other people eat their corn dogs and their pretzels and that's when he saw him; Tyler Wilcox. Tyler was the Rod Sox pitcher that was killed in a senseless accident. Kyle stopped dead in his tracks and stared with disbelief. Tyler looked the same; tall, good looking and he had that same goofy sense of humor for which he was noted. He also had the nice-guy quality that made made many people feel comfortable around him. Kyle was so stunned to see Tyler in front of him that he was speechless. Tyler was dressed in a short-sleeved buttoned down shirt and jean shorts, wearing a Red Sox baseball cap backwards, on his head. He looked like how Kyle remembered seeing him in pictures. Tyler smiled his mile-wide, disarming smile at Kyle and his blue eyes twinkled with an impish gleam.
“Hiya Kid! Glad to see that you made it. Wanna toss some ball?” Tyler's deep bass voice was unmistakable.
Kyle was riveted to his spot in utter shock. It was so unsettling to see Tyler standing in front of him. Tyler was supposed to have died years ago, and yet here the man stood, alive and looking well. Kyle's eyes were wide and his mouth hung open so far a bus could have driven into it. Tyler was handing Kyle a glove, motioning him towards the baseball field.
“What's the matter Kid? Cat got your tongue?” Tyler chuckled as he reached to put his arm around Kyle's shoulders.
Kyle sat up in bed with a jolt. His breathing was heavy and his face and hair was drenched with sweat. He quickly looked around and saw that the flurry of activity and the noise in the park was replaced by the tranquil peace and stillness of his bedroom. The twelve year old boy was is reality a thirty-two year old man. For a moment, he had an elated feeling, like a happiness he had never known before. He was actually grinning from ear to ear because of seeing Tyler in his dream. After a few seconds, reality slowly crept back to him and Kyle knew that Tyler was no longer alive. Looking over at his digital clock it read 4:44 AM. Kyle sighed. Of all the days to wake up early why did he have to wake up early on a Saturday? He kicked off the covers and wandered into the kitchen. He fumbled in the dark to find a glass that was waiting for him in the cupboard. He poured himself some water and gulped it down. After drinking his water, Kyle stood there leaning against the the counter thinking about his dream. He smiled to himself as playing catch with Tyler Wilcox would have been the best experience ever. Tyler's accident happened over twenty years ago when Kyle was a boy of about twelve years of age. Kyle heaved a bittersweet sigh. That was a terrible time in his life and remembering Tyler's death brought on that deep sadness that Kyle knew only too well.
He put his glass in the sink and headed back to his bed. As he slid back under the covers, he noticed that his sheets were damp with sweat. He wasn't surprised. When his mom died ten years ago from cancer, he would have these vivid dreams about her. There was nothing scary about these dreams. He was excited to see her again and when he would reach out to her to touch her hands or to give her a hug, he would suddenly wake up. When he did, he found himself laying in his sweat-soaked bed and he would be shaking from head to toe. He had seen several doctors about this and was told that it was the normal stages of grief and that it would pass in time. Ten years had passed and even though Kyle had come to terms with losing his mom, the sheets were still wet with sweat when he had dreams about her.
Kyle laid on the opposite side of his bed and pulled the covers back up over himself. The aching, hurting side that he usually squashed down whenever he thought about Tyler was still there. Kyle tossed and turned a few times and fell back into a troubled sleep; still bothered by the conundrum of why he saw Tyler Wilcox in his dream.
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