A Last Christmas Wish

Christian Garcia wanted his Christmas tree a month early this year. He knew he didn’t have much time left. And he wanted a tree that he could pick out himself and then decorate with shiny bells, red ribbons and a blinking star.

His parents weren’t sure the trip to the Christmas tree lot was a good idea. The cancerous tumor taking over his brain had left the 7-year-old child terribly weak. He couldn’t walk or hold his head up anymore, and could barely speak. He wasn’t eating much anymore. And the pain-killing morphine was making him sick.

But Christian was determined that nothing--not even cancer--was going to take Christmas from him. So on Wednesday, his father, Manuel, bundled his son up and carried him to the lot, where Christian pointed to the bushiest tree in sight.

On Friday, Manuel Garcia held Christian in his arms like a baby as they watched the lights flicker on and off and listened to Christmas carols. Christian’s whimpers stopped briefly, and a strained smile crossed his face. Then his eyes closed and he dozed off into a short sleep.

“He tells me that soon he is going to go,” said his mother, Maria, as she kissed her son softly on the forehead.

*

This isn’t the usual Christmas story. It is not about the crowded lines at the malls or the hunt for a PlayStation 2. It is about a little boy’s last Christmas, a mom who has quit her job sorting lemons, a dad who has come home from his construction work to spend the last days with his son.

It’s also about a special community, a place where people are still a lot closer to each other than they are in most communities. For months now, neighbors and friends have rallied around the Garcia family--supporting them through one of the most trying times imaginable.

The Garcias live on the east end of Ventura, in Cabrillo Village. Once a farm labor camp for workers in the nearby lemon fields, the neighborhood is still populated mostly by Latino construction, factory and farm workers.

The village is known as “The Camp” to many of the people who live there. To those outside its small borders, it has a reputation as a dangerous place. But there is a special sense of family and friendship about it, too. Neighbors in Cabrillo Village know each other, and they care for each other when times are tough.

Once the neighbors learned of Christian’s illness, they began to come to the Garcia house in droves, bringing food, toys and money. They still call throughout the day, checking on Maria, Manuel and little Christian. They help with the shopping and errands, and they baby-sit for Christian’s little sister, Karina.

Teens in the neighborhood even held a car wash to raise money for the family.

It has been like this for nine months now, since the day the Garcias learned of Christian’s cancer. And the caring extended beyond Cabrillo Village.

Juanamaria School held two fund-raisers, a barbecue and a rummage sale. Manuel Garcia’s construction company paid for a weekend trip to San Diego, so Christian could go to Legoland and Sea World. Make-A-Wish Foundation sent the family to Disneyland. The Ventura Police Department came to the house to do a special demonstration for Christian.

Like many little boys, Christian wanted to be a firefighter. When the Ventura County Fire Department came to the house last month with its trucks and blaring lights, his spirits were especially brightened. He wore a personalized yellow hat and lived out his dream, if only for an hour.

It was never supposed to be like this, of course.

*

Christian was born just after the family moved from Oxnard to Cabrillo Village. He was an active toddler, running just about as soon as he was able to walk. As soon as he could talk, he wouldn’t stop chattering. He was always telling stories and jokes--to friends, adults and his older brother and his two sisters.

When he was only 2, he discovered soccer. A few years later, he was playing on his first AYSO team, the Yellow Jackets. He collected soccer jerseys and soccer balls and went through several pairs of shoes. He watched matches on television and kept track of all the players and teams.

The Garcias became aware of the illness that would shatter everything last March, when Christian bumped his head after going down a slide at school. He complained of a headache, and one of his eyes drifted to the side. His parents took him to an emergency room, where Maria Garcia said doctors first suggested that the problem might be a nerve disorder.

But the eye doctor sent them to a neurologist, who did several tests and diagnosed the cancerous tumor. Doctors at Childrens Hospital Los Angeles told the Garcias the tumor couldn’t be removed.

Then came the treatments. Eight weeks of radiation. Four sessions of chemotherapy. The Garcias don’t have any idea how much it all has cost. To them it has been a blur of donations, Medi-Cal and insurance benefits.

For a while, things seemed better. The Garcias thought their son might survive. But it didn’t work. The tumor didn’t shrink, and Christian just kept losing strength.

During the last week in October, the doctors suggested that the family take Christian home.

“They told us they couldn’t do anything for him,” said 40-year-old Maria, as tears streamed down her face. “I felt like dying.”

*

The next day, hospice nurses began coming to the home, checking his progress and giving Christian morphine to relieve his pain. Sara Flick, a nurse with Assisted Home Hospice, visits daily with Christian. Flick said she is just trying to keep him comfortable.

When she arrived on Friday, she told her patient he looked sad.

“Are you OK?” she asked. Christian nodded. “Does something hurt?” He nodded again, and he awkwardly pointed to his head. Flick rubbed his patchy hair softly and told him she was going to get some more medicine.

*

She gave him a dose of liquid morphine from an eye dropper, which made him cough and cry.

Flick comforted him and gave him a hug. Then, as she said goodbye, Flick said, “I didn’t get my smile today. Do you have any to spare?”

Christian scrunched his face and began to weep.

“No, none today,” Flick said with a sigh.

There is probably less than a week left for Christian, Flick said. It was time to tell Manuel Garcia to come home from work for the final days. Manuel said he knew he needed to be there.

“Voy a quedarme aqui hasta Dios quiere,” he said. “I am going to stay here until God wants.”

His father’s presence Friday afternoon had an immediate impact. Christian cheered up. He and his dad played with a miniature soccer ball. It took all of his strength to throw it on the floor, but once he did, Manuel Garcia exclaimed, “Goal!” His son smiled.

The Garcias have stopped hoping Christian will get better. But they haven’t stopped wishing the pain to go away. So as the days pass, they keep hugging their son. Telling him they love him. Praying that God will take Christian soon so there isn’t any more suffering.

No lesson is worth the pain and loss. But Maria Garcia says the last nine months have made her realize that parents should never take their children for granted. And they should tell their children they love them as often as they can.

“For some parents, there isn’t the opportunity to say that all the time,” she said. “Parents should take advantage of that while their children are well.”

FYI

Contributions to the Garcia family can be made to the “Christian Garcia Memorial Fund” in care of Santa Barbara Bank & Trust at 250 S. Mills Road, Ventura, CA 93003. The number for information is 650-6402.