Dating : The Love of A Dying Child on an Old Dingy Crucifix

I was switching handbags when I came across an old, dingy crucifix. It is some sort of plastic gold-tone material with green gemstones. The crucifix is missing one of the gems. This crucifix was given to me by Timothy — a spunky 5-year-old boy with beautiful green eyes.

It was the year 1981, I worked as a cake decorator at an ice cream shop in Puerto Rico. Timothy’s mom brought him in every day for a french vanilla ice cream cone. They did not speak Spanish so I took their order since I was fluent in English. Timothy was not shy and asked all sorts of questions about ice cream. He loved the cake decorations and complimented my cake decorating skills. He especially loved the ice cream clown cones which were nothing more than a vanilla or chocolate upside-down ice cream cone decorated with a cherry as a nose, icing as eyes, mouth. Timothy’s Mom did not buy him a clown because Timothy liked French vanilla which would have been a specialty order.

One day during their visit, I said to him, “Wow Timothy, you are so lucky to get ice cream every day!” Timothy replied, “I sure am!” while licking his ice cream cone and chatting as he usually did. There was something about Timothy that made me stop whatever I was doing to listen to him. If I was too busy his Mom would prop him on the counter closest to the decorating station and he would continue to talk a mile a minute. He always managed to make me smile and laugh. He made me happy.

It was a few weeks since I had seen Timothy. I didn’t recall his mom saying anything about traveling plans or otherwise. So, when she came in by herself to purchase a pint of French Vanilla ice cream, I asked about Timothy, she responded that he was ill.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is it a cold?” I asked.

But I wasn’t prepared for her response which left me in shock.

“Timothy has a rare form of cancer and doesn’t have much time to live.”

She told me that Timothy knew but didn’t understand what it meant. To make his last few months better, she told him that he could have whatever he wanted in the world. And as an innocent young child, all he asked for was a French vanilla ice cream cone every day. I was speechless and other than “I’m sorry” I didn’t know what else to say. She smiled — a forced smile, thanked me, and said that most likely she would be able to bring him on Friday or Saturday if he was feeling better.

Anticipating to see Timothy that weekend, I decided to gift him a special French vanilla clown cone with his name on the clown’s hat. Friday came along and in came Timothy with a huge smile on his face. I could hear him yell, “Hi, Miss Debbie” in his sweet child voice. I turned away from my decorating station and went to greet him. He asked for his usual French Vanilla cone and while he ran to the fridge where the cakes and clown cones were, I told his Mom about the clown ice cream cone I had made for him and asked if it were okay. When she authorized me to give it to him, I walked over to where Timothy stood, bend down to his level, and asked him if he knew how to read his name. He responded that he did, so I motioned for him to look towards the clown cones. When he read his name he got very excited and yelled,

“Is it for me?”.

“Yes it is my dear,” I responded and gave it to him. I will never forget the look of happiness in his face.

The next day, Timothy and his Mom returned. Timothy walked towards me with a small child wrapped gift in his hand and an old thin cake decorating ideas booklet.

“Miss Debbie! Miss Debbie, look what I got for you.” he squealed.

“Why thank you Timothy, such a lovely gesture,” I responded and proceeded to unwrap the gift and there it was. It was the crucifix. He told me that he wanted me to have it so I would never forget him. For the first time since I knew Timothy, tears began to cloud my eyes. He was the sweetest little boy I had known. I hugged and thanked him as he was getting ready to grab his cone already served. That was the last time I saw Timothy.

A few months after, his Mom came in by herself. I didn’t need to ask. I already knew that she wasn’t there to buy ice cream. She was very sad. She looked at me and said,

“I just want to thank you for your kindness towards my son. Timothy passed away a month ago.”

I just hugged her without a word and then she left. The rest of my day was a sad one. I didn’t know Timothy well, but he was such a delight that it was easy for anyone to feel love for him. I remembered that the crucifix was on top of the counter where I had placed it in the decorating station. I grabbed it and just stared at it for a while, then vowed I would never part from that crucifix or forget Timothy and I placed it in my purse.

It’s been 39 years since and still today, every time I switch purses I come across the crucifix. Memories of Timothy flood my mind but I now smile because I know there’s a beautiful angel in heaven by the name of Timothy.

Thank you, Timothy, may you rest in peace. Please know, for as long as I live, I will continue to keep the crucifix in my handbag. With love, Miss Debbie.