Samuel Kamp Cichello, son of Anthony and Chris Cichello, grandson of Sam and Eileen Cichello, died Wednesday, October 27 a few hours after a fall from the rings that kids play on at the Tucker school playground in Milton, MA.  His Mom, Chris, was in the playground at the time to pick up Sammy and his sisters Bridget and Teresa.  After his fall, Sammy at first seemed to be okay, crying and walking over to Chris to tell her he got hurt.  A few minutes later, he began screaming that his head hurt and walked with Chris into the nurse's office.  There he lost consciousness.  An ambulance took him to the Milton hospital.  A trauma crew was sent from Children's Hospital in Boston to stabilize him, then he was transferred to Children's Hospital. A CAT scan showed bleeding and pressure in the brain.  He was taken into surgery but died before the doctors could operate.

 

 

SAMMY

 

Eileen Cichello

 

Sammy is gone from us and our lives will never be the same.  It's not supposed to be this way.  We don't expect to outlive our children and grandchildren. At every family gathering there will be the sense of loss, the pain, that this wonderful little boy with a grin that went from ear to ear is not physically here with us.

He will be here in other ways. We will not forget him.  We will tell "Sammy stories" and laugh and cry at the things he said and did.

Sammy was seven, would have been eight in December.  He was active and athletic, bright and curious.  His dad, our son Anthony, said of Sammy at his funeral Mass, "As a toddler, he would find something as simple as a cupboard door and would open and close it over and over, staring at the latch, trying to figure out how it worked.  He figured out how to work the VCR long before any of the rest of us.  If I came home and found something taken apart and in many pieces, I knew Sam had discovered how to take it apart but had not yet mastered how to put it back together again.  When I called 'Sam' in a stern voice, he would get this sheepish look on his face and start to explain to me how he'd been trying to fix whatever it was, or that he was trying to figure out how it worked when it just came apart.  It was hard to get angry with him because he was so earnest.

"Sam was generous.  He would give you the shirt off his back--or, much more difficult for a seven year old boy--his last piece of candy or his last Chicken McNuggett.  He was compassionate and quick to comfort anyone in pain or in need.  If Teresa had a splinter, Sam would have to leave the room when we were taking it out because he couldn't bear to see her in pain.  He could not bear to see anything suffer.  When we caught two bats swooping through my sister's camp last summer, he demanded that I let them go."

Anthony continued, "I don't think it's an exaggeration when I say everyone loved Sam.  He had a way of getting along with people.  He was easy going and fun.  You could probably find at least a half dozen boys who just knew they were Sam's best friend.  I am also told there are a number of girls who had already declared their intentions regarding Sam and were just waiting for him to grow up so they could marry him."

Since his death, I have learned more of who Sammy was.  When he was visiting us with his sisters Bridget and Teresa, I was more tuned in to the funny things he said and did, how he liked to stir things up and tease his sisters, how gleeful he was when he skunked me in a card game. I was less aware of his generosity of spirit, of the way he shared.

I may be the only person who calls him "Sammy."  It was mostly to differentiate him from his grandfather, my husband Sam.  This past August when Sammy last visited us, he and his grandfather had a great time playing the name game with me.  Every time I called "Sam" they both answered.  Same when I called "Sammy."  They'd look at each other and laugh gleefully, especially when I threatened them.

I take consolation in the fact that Sammy had a happy life, with parents who loved him well, sisters to play with and a large extended family: aunts to hug, uncles to hug and wrestle with, cousins and friends, grandparents to visit and a caring school and community.  Full of zest and loving to laugh, Sammy packed a lot of living into his almost eight years.  He and his two best buddies, Wesley and Charlie, whose birthdays come within days of each other, had founded "The Idiots Club" and "The Babies Club" and specialized in walking into walls and just plain being goofy.

One of Sammy's uncles said to me, "I think about him being lonely, wanting to be with his family."  I don't think that.  I believe with all my being that Sammy is with his loving Father, that his "every tear has been wiped away", that he is filled with peace and joy, a joy we only get glimpses of in this life.

There are no answers to "why?"  Why did God allow this boy to die, this boy who would have been a good man, a warm and caring man, a plus in our troubled world?  Gregory Floyd, whose six year old son Johnny was struck and killed by a car outside his home, says in his book A GRIEF UNVEILED, "God permitted the accident to happen for reasons only he knows. He loved Johnny's life on earth and he loves his life in heaven.  He both grieves for our pain and rejoices that his son is home."

I believe that and it brings some comfort in the desolation.

One lesson I have taken form this experience is the realization, once again, of the need to treasure the people in our lives, to love, to accept and to delight in each one of them, even when, maybe especially when, they are driving us nuts.  Life is fragile and precious.

We give thanks for the gift of having Sammy with us for almost eight years.