The Story of a Boy and His Star

She looked up at the stars and I felt like she was looking right at me.  At her son’s Guardian.  At a star who failed to do her job.

They say that a star will never forget her first child.  I don’t know if that is true or not, but it is for me.  You see, every child born on Earth is given a Guardian Star to watch over him or her.  For protection.  For support.  For wishes.  For love.

My first child was Enzo.  He was a beautiful boy with a warrior’s heart.  His broad nose and large, brown eyes were painted to perfection.  His body was chiseled and imbued with strength.  His heart was gifted with perseverance.

He needed all of this to survive the diagnosis at his birth.  It was a death sentence for him, a first and challenging trial for me.  I loved that boy from his first breath, just as his mother loved him from long before.  Enzo was more than a child, and I felt a great anger that the child I was to protect had been dealt such a terrible hand.  

Let me step back just a little.  You may wonder why a powerful and magical star such as myself cannot simply cure the disease of a child.  You misunderstand how protection works.  I am not in charge of diseases, wars, or other circumstances that are destructive in nature anymore than I am in charge of health, acts of kindness, or other blessings provided by humans or for humans.  I am simply a star who watches over her child.  I listen to his heart before he can even speak.  I make appeals on his behalf.  I cover him with the warmth of my twinkling and pulsating magic.  I am billions of light years away, but no amount of space can come between a child and his star.

If you have trouble understanding, then just think of those times you feel alone.  Perhaps now, listening to my words, you feel alone.  There is often a feeling comfort, however fleeting it may be, that one has during this time of loneliness.  It is in that feeling your star is reaching out for you.  That is my protection.  While stars hope and pray that our children hear us and embrace us, it is always the will of the children to make that choice, or to not make that choice.

I am proud today because Enzo made that choice.  He could not walk, crawl, or speak.  He could not consciously understand the world around him.  He was too young, too undeveloped.  He was a mere three days old.  Yet there is not bond stronger than a star and her child, especially at that youthful age.  Enzo heard and felt my embrace as he suffered from his fatal disease.  

His mother had long ago turned away from her star.  Her life was too hard.  Too difficult.  Even now, with the birth of her son, she felt alone.  She had no husband.  Enzo’s father was a runaway who wanted nothing to do with his warrior son.  Her parents were long gone as well.  Enzo’s mother was now faced with a dying child and no means to pay for the medical expenses surely coming her way.  

But on this night, she cast away her shame and walked out into the night sky.  She looked up to the stars and pleaded for help.  When she looked at us, I could see her staring right at me.  She was not looking to her own star for protection on that night.  No.  She was looking at me.  It was my job to protect him.

How I wanted to tell her in a way she could understand that I cannot cure this disease anymore than I can grow legs and walk upon the Earth.  All I could do is wrap Enzo up in my embrace to comfort him until the end.  When his mother stared at me so far away on that great, blue planet, I cried.

Even I didn’t know at that time that stars could cry.  It came as a shock to me.  Most stars live so joyfully when their child is so young.  I was unfortunate in that my child was weak.  But I feel even now that the word ‘weak’ offers a grave injustice for Enzo.  He was anything but weak.  Humans, like the doctors and nurses, could not see what I saw.  They could not see what his mother saw.  That Enzo was a warrior.

My tear fell and streaked the sky.  I suppose to Enzo’s mother, my tear looked like a shooting star because she smiled as if she had been heard.  She made her wish.  She walked back inside the hospital.

Stars can see through doors.  We can see our children no matter where they are.  It is our blessing and our curse to watch over them in times that are good and in times that are horrific.  At that time, I looked at Enzo through the hospital as he struggled externally.  Inside, he was on fire and fighting with all the strength his heart could give him.  And I continued to pulse my power into him.  If you ever look at the night sky and see stars, you may wonder why some blink brighter.  The ones blinking brightest are the ones sending as much compassion as they can toward their children.  That night, there would have been one star brighter than all the others.  

It was me.  I gave all I could.

And then the Heavens spoke to me, offering me a chance.  A chance to save Enzo.

Most stars can understand that more good can come from holding on to its power, its magic.  After all, when a star’s child dies, be it at birth or at old age, there will be another child to protect.  But if a star dies, there may be a child that goes without protection someday.  For stars are not formed so often as children are born.

Watching Enzo, though, I knew what I must do.  My first child would simply have to be my last child.

I allowed my tears to fall.  From a human’s perspective, it must have been a sight to see.  So many shooting stars.  With each tear, I felt my magic fade, my strength weaken, and my light dim.  

But all the while, I smiled.  I smiled through the pain, because I knew Enzo needed that smile.  He needed a final embrace before his disease left him and entered me.  

Finally, with an exhale from Enzo and a deep breath in from me, I finished my sacrifice.  I felt cold, but somehow the pain ceased.  Perhaps that was the Heavens showing pity toward me in the final moments.

Now I sit here taking in my final breaths.  My light is not strong enough for Earth to see me any longer, but I can just make out Enzo’s mother walking outside again.  Her face is streaked with dried tears.  

I am fading.

She looks up at the stars she can see.  Her face is, for a moment, confused.  She cannot see me.

I am fading.

She shakes off her confusion quickly and says, “Thank you!  Thank you for saving my boy!”  She does not know who she is thanking, but she is just so happy for this miracle.

I am fading.

As she looks up to the stars, Enzo’s mother is a transformed woman, and I realize that my sacrifice not only saved a boy, but it saved a woman who has had too much pain in her life.  I make a final call to her star, hoping that perhaps the two can be reunited and Enzo will continue to have protection from another.

I think these thoughts.  I send my love.

I am gone.