“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said.

How did he know today was our last session? Did he know that we would no longer have our Monday evening strolls to the stables, together, arm-in-arm with Mama? Walking under the overpass, shouting “ECHO!” Hitting my arm. Usually out of affection, sometimes out of frustration. Squeezing me so badly I had black and blues for days. But he trusted me. And his mom thought enough of me to cross a highway with Her Baby alone, sometimes in the dark.

Every week I was privileged to enter this beautiful, green haven in the middle of The Bronx. We would sneak in the gate next to the Henry Hudson Parkway. He would sometimes talk to himself as he held my hand tightly. Blocking, redirecting, directing.  We were always scurrying, fighting traffic. Together. He always trusted me.

I remember the first time we tried to get him on a horse. He took his instructor down, then me, then Mama. Blocking, redirecting, directing. For weeks we would make the long trek, only to leave disappointed. Then he finally mounted old Rusty. He took the trust he had in everything else we did together and applied it to this. Everyone always thought he was my son and Mama was my mom. I guess because he always made me so proud.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” is what he said when we arrived at his home tonight. My wise Little Buddy knew I couldn’t hear goodbye.

I will miss our strolls through Van Cortlandt Park, striking up conversations with the other kids playing soccer, little league, running track. Playing tag together on the jungle gym on a hot New York City summer afternoon, with our backpacks packed with towels for when we took our run through the sprinklers. Only my Little Buddy could get me to dress up for Halloween and go Trick-or-Treating…which I hadn’t done in 30 years.

I loved seeing the world through his 10-year-old eyes.

I took him on his first go-cart at Rye Playland. I was privy to his first Yankee Game. His family and I, together, taught him how to say he was from The Bronx…with pride!

I want to be there for his big life events. I want to see him graduate from high school and start his first job. That was my secret promise to him!

So long, Little Buddy. I will miss you so very much. Keep making me proud.

And thank you for all YOU taught ME!