Hidden Gifts

“I understand.”

“I know how you feel.”

 

Do we really, though? Have we truly walked in the moccasins of the person whose plight we “understand”? Have we truly felt what that person feels? Have we truly experienced what he (or she) has experienced? Or anything even close?

 

In the early evening of Saturday, February 24, I was standing along the back wall of the Estes Athletic Center at Trinity Episcopal School watching the Collegiate Cougars take on the home team in the championship game of the Virginia Prep League basketball tournament.

 

A few steps away sat Richard Bagby, Collegiate class of 2002 and one of the most accomplished three-sport athletes of his generation. As a high school junior, Richard ran the leadoff leg on the school’s state champion 4x400 meter relay team which set a school record (3:25.29). He also broke a long-standing mark in the 400 (49.67). After graduation, he played basketball for Boston University and, later, football for the University of Richmond. He was contemplating a career as a Marine Corps officer when on Labor Day weekend of 2008 he suffered a severe spinal cord injury that altered his life forever. He was 25.

 

Now deputy director of the United Spinal Association of Virginia, Richard has become an fervent advocate for and mentor to many fellow travelers and their families. He’s also been a loyal supporter of Collegiate athletics, which was his reason for traveling to Trinity that night.

 

As Richard watched the game from floor level, Sarah Peavey, class of 2001, was taking in the action from the bleachers. After graduating from William & Mary, Sarah taught Upper School French at Collegiate for several years. More recently, she’s served as primary caregiver for her husband Alex, our Upper School counselor and mindfulness guru who was diagnosed with metastatic prostate cancer in March 2017.

 

At halftime, as Sarah descended the stands with her daughter Jane en route to the concession stand, she ran into Richard.

 

Turns out they have known each other for almost two decades. They actually attended the prom together her senior year. They stayed in touch during college and from time to time afterwards, but their paths have crossed only sporadically in recent years.

 

Their meeting at Trinity was purely by chance. They chatted. They picked up where they’d left off, as old friends often do. Their conversation was wide-ranging. There was even some light-hearted banter, no surprise if you know the two. Positive energy definitely flowed.

 

Sarah: “Richard asked about Alex and how we were doing. He told me about his foundation. I gave him a hard time that he seemed so civilized, so mature, so grown up. We were joking. Then in the next breath, we were talking about something serious. The conversation peacefully vacillated between throwing jabs at one another and something personal.”

 

Richard: “Sarah and I have plenty in our lives we could (complain) about, but, notwithstanding, we’re happy people. We much prefer to be happy rather than me (complain) about not being able to walk or her (complain) about Alex’s situation. It’s all about perspective.”

 

Hear that? Perspective. And caring. And empathy one for the other. Their challenges have been formidable, relentless, unforgiving, even overwhelming at times. They navigate each day with uncommon strength, resolve, and grace. The find hidden gifts and a measure of joy in their journeys.

 

“We celebrate each other’s wins,” Richard said. “We console each other in down times. I’ve learned that you don’t really know what somebody’s going through until you’ve experienced something similar, even if it isn’t necessarily the same thing.”

 

Sarah agreed.

 

“When Alex got sick last spring, the Collegiate community held us up,” she said. “It was the visits, the notes, the cards, the text messages, the emails. It was an unbelievable amount of support. We could sit there in silence and feel a different vibration in the room from the love and support we were receiving.”

 

Check the scoreboard in the background of the picture atop this column. The Titans lead 43-30 early in the third quarter. They would go on to win 86-59. The outcome wasn’t what the Cougars had hoped for. Nonetheless, they left the court with their heads high, their dignity intact. The sun came up the next morning.

 

“Alex has posted that he would never wish cancer on anyone,” Sarah said, “but he wishes everyone could see through the lens that cancer provides because it gives you a different outlook on life. Things that felt like such a big deal at one time feel so insignificant. At the same time, people or things or songs or colors or hearing your child’s voice – things you took for granted beforehand – feel so overwhelmingly powerful and can take your breath away.”

  -- Weldon Bradshaw