Snow Angels

Buddy had started out as a bear, or maybe an elephant. I honestly don’t remember. Like any stuffed friend that is loved so desperately for so long, Buddy had transformed into a unique, soft, friend. A friend that always smiled and always loved a hug. Something that was mine. 

When I lost Buddy during a long plane trip, I was in shambles. I wasn’t old enough yet to have lost anything that meant anything, and Buddy meant everything to me. I cried for so long, what felt like years but must have been hours. My parents did their best, but Buddy was gone. 

“We never really lose the things we love.” my dad said.

“I don’t know what that means!” I screamed through my tears.

“You will someday” he said. 

I didn’t know what that meant either, but that happened a lot with my dad. 

When we got home from the trip, a few inches of snow had fallen on the yard. We had a small house, with a small yard, but it was big enough. The deck had a wide railing and when we got home, my dad disappeared onto the deck for a while. I snuck on my boots and crept up behind him to see what he was doing. 

In front of him on the railing was a mound of snow that looked a lot like Buddy. It wasn’t a bear or an elephant, it had the soft, unique shape of my friend. 

“This is Snow Buddy.” My dad said, as he finished. 

I was young, and still upset, so I smashed snow Buddy and ran inside crying. Later, when I looked outside, Snow Buddy was back. My dad had made it again. 

Snow Buddy became a winter tradition for us, we would build him after the first snowfall. As the winter drew on, we would always check to see if Snow Buddy needed more snow or less, to ensure he kept smiling. Sometimes, when I was having a hard time, I would stand on the deck and talk to Snow Buddy. It made sense to me when I was young. 

As I got older, some of my friends thought that Snow Buddy was a silly, childish thing. They would throw snowballs and try to knock it down, but we would always put it back. They didn’t really understand Snow Buddy, and I’m not sure I did either. It just felt better when he was there.

When my dad got sick I was living farther away, but came to see him as often as I could. Every time I walked in the door I instinctively looked out on the deck railing at where Snow Buddy used to sit, and he was always there. Like a good friend. 

Eventually, it got hard for dad to even stand up so when I came to visit I had to do most everything for him. When I entered the house and glanced at the deck, I knew Snow Buddy wouldn’t be there. But he was. My dad, as weak and as frail as he was, had found the strength to make sure Buddy was there. 

When I talked to my dad about it, all he would say was “We never really lose the things we love.” I still didn’t understand what he meant.  

When dad passed away, it was hard on me. I wasn’t young anymore, but some of the feelings echoed those tears when I lost Buddy. Part of me seemed empty, another part felt lost.

Cleaning out his house, the house where I grew up, was the hardest part. I put it off as long as I could, as I didn’t want to walk into the house without him being there. And I knew that as soon as I walked into the house I would glance at the deck railing, and it would hurt even more. 

But, I couldn’t put it off forever, so I made my way to his house and through the fresh inches of snow that had fallen the night before. I shoveled the driveway, mostly as a way to avoid going into the house. With a deep sigh, I went to the front door and walked inside. 

As always, I glanced at the deck. I couldn’t help myself. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust, and see that in the spot where Snow Buddy always sat there was a mound of snow. Maybe it had fallen from a tree, I don’t know. What I do know is that it looked a lot like Buddy, his unique and loved-in blob of a shape. 

I smiled to myself and thought about what my dad said, “We never lose the things we love.”

I still don’t understand what he meant, but for the first time I have hope that someday I might.