5/90, for Big Rudy

Once, a man convinced me that he could fly. This is not to say that I believed in magic or superheros or angels. This is to say that I believed there was something about the man I knew as Big Rudy. Something that held him to a different standard, a completely different set of parameters.

Our feet would just touch the landing, turning to race up the second half of stairs to the second floor. Above us, we saw Rudy's feet hit the floor, heard the thump of his weight at the top of the stairs. He looked at us wide-eyed. You guys didn't see anything did you? We felt our own eyes widen, feel like they would fall from our heads that shook silently. Okay, good. And he would go back to his work.

We didn't immediately question this, and I don't know at what point the idea was solidified. If Rudy was left alone, he simply couldn't keep his on the floor. He couldn't stop himself from flying.

Dominic, Rudy's son, was one of my first and, until leaving for college, one of my best friends. His family made me believe that we were soul mates. I was meant to be with their family, drinking hot chocolate and eating chicken noodle soup with mashed potatoes by the big fireplace, going on weekend trips to movies. Before school started and Dominic could be embarrassed by it, he played with Barbies.

In between moving Barbie to from her studio apartment on the couch to her penthouse in his sister's room, we would be distracted by Big Rudy's magic show. We watched as he practiced, tricking and frustrating us. When Big Rudy brought the show to school, our friends asked how he did it, how does he know? We smiled, convincing them that we understood.

We didn't. I still don't, but of course Rudy did. Because this was what he did, mastering skills that made people happy. Hugging. Laughing. Story-sharing. Magic-tricking. This was his real power. We all believed that with Big Rudy, it was all possible; we were all possible. We could fly, if wanted. You just let your feet come off of the ground. You just let it happen.

When my mother told me yesterday that Rudy, who I admittedly haven't seen for years, died yesterday, it was the image of his landing that came back to me first. I imagined the flying that came before this and again accepted it as something quite possible. I was heartbroken, for the selfish reasons one is always heartbroken, and then I was thankful. I was one of the lucky ones. The ones that got to learn first hand that flying is possible.