Here's hoping they never forget Gary

I'll always love my hometown. Moosic, Pa., might not have the glitz an glamor of Hollywood, the style of New York City, the beauty of Paris or the history of Rome, but it's where I'm from so has a special place in my heart.
It's got my favorite ice cream stand (Bitty Bill's), my favorite pizza parlor (Dino & Francesco's), but most of all it has my favorite people.
The people of Northeastern Pennsylvania are, like the people in any small town, quite a group. They're not perfect and they don't try to be. They love to elect corrupt politicians from every part of the aisle, mangle the English language (They drink a "caffee" while eating a "couple, two, tree haatdogs," at a restaurant in "Troop" - which is inconveniently spelled "Throop." Yet they remember to say "tanks" to the waitress.), and consider a mixed marriage the wedding between a Polish girl and an Italian man.
Yet it is a place where most of the people - whether they've read "Don Quixote" or not - look at the world through the eyes of Alonso Quijano. They live to believe in things. It's in the very fabric of their being.
In the past few days the communities of Northeastern Pennsylvania, especially my hometown of Moosic and the surrounding boroughs of Taylor and Old Forge, have rallied around an impressive young man.


Gary Lukasiewicz began his senior year at Riverside High School in the fall. The hockey player and senior class president had more to do than attend practices or fill out his home work sheets.
He had to battle cancer.
Cancer's gruesome. It always is, but especially so when it strikes a young person. You watch as someone who should be looking toward a bright future loses their hair, their weight, their energy.
It's a particularly cruel fact of life that we have to lose kids to cancer.
Yet the communities around Scranton found hope in Gary. They took to Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr and Google+ and, well, I wouldn't be surprised if they invented another social media platform. Area media outlets such as the Scranton Times-Tribune and WNEP covered the story.
The young people in the area started showing up at Divine Mercy Parish every night, singing "Sweet Caroline" and "Firework" while praying for Gary.
David Ortiz, the star slugger for the Boston Red Sox, was one of many celebrities to send a message for Gary, a rabid Boston Red Sox fan. 
Signs for #KeepfightingGary showed up on area businesses, people's cars and on T-shirts.
It was impressive to watch from afar as you could feel love pour forth because of this young man's battle with such a terrible disease.
Gary died Saturday morning. On Sunday night, David Ortiz homered. You can't help but think the young man was smiling as he watched Big Papi circle the bases.
You often hear people say someone "lost a battle with cancer." Nothing could be further from the truth in Gary's case.
Someone who can make people come together and sing and believe in something greater then themselves did not lose anything. They made their little corner of the world a better place.
After getting a text message from my sister about Gary's death this afternoon, I picked up Michael and held him for a while. He smiled at me and laughed at me as I teared up.
I'm terrified of the possibility of losing him. I often joke about how I see so many things that can be a danger to him, but it's true. The fear of things happening to him is nearly paralyzing to me. I cannot imagine what Gary's parents are going through. I hope they can find some comfort in knowing how much he meant to so many people.
Sadly, I do know what Gary's friends are going through.
When I was a senior in high school, I lost my good friend, Scott Kryeski to cancer. I wish I could tell those kids it gets easier, but I can't. There are still many days when I cry because I know I'll never trade baseball cards or play basketball with him again. There are still days when I get angry that nothing could have been done to save him. Yet, not a day goes by that I don't find strength in my memories of him.
I hope Gary's classmates and friends can keep him and those lessons in their hearts. I hope they remember that life is precious, that they should enjoy the present, that they shouldn't be ashamed to hug a friend who isn't sick.
I constantly wish I could go back in time and watch myself and Scott and the other kids in the neighborhood play pick-up games of basketball, baseball and football. Watch Scott dive for a line drive or shoot an unnecessary 3-pointer.
Someday I'll tell Michael about Scott, about how we played one-on-one up to 100 every day. About how Scott kept coming back despite me being three years older and 30 pounds heavier. About the day Scott finally beat me and how he was hopping away, both arms raised in the air when I had turned around to shake his hand.
I'll tell him all the stories about Scott and how, like Gary, he never gave up.
I want Michael to believe in people like Scott and Gary. That's part of who he is. Sure, Michael was born in York, but he's got an aweful lot of Moosic in him.
And that's a good thing.