An Elevating Story

by Yvonne Abraham of The Boston Globe.

Everybody was waiting for Rudy.

On Tuesday night, Patty and Rick Parker were in their cramped kitchen with their 8-year-old son Ben. Dinner was over. Bedtime was near.

Ben’s twin brother, Sammy, lay on a cot in the narrow hallway just outside the kitchen. Unable to see or speak or control his limbs, he coughed or let out a little moan every now and then. Rick and Patty took turns feeding Sammy, who has cerebral palsy, through a stomach tube. He cooed when they kissed his face or stroked his cheek, and when they cooed back, he opened his mouth into a wide, joyful O.

A few feet away was the narrow, winding stairway that is the family’s biggest burden lately.

Which is where 17-year-old Rudy’s simple, life-changing act of kindness comes in.

Until recently, Rick carried Sammy up those 14 stairs to his bedroom each night. But a few months ago, Rick had major surgery for a life-threatening heart condition, and now he can’t lift much at all, let alone a 75-pound child.

“We thought Rick was going to die, and we were terrified,’’ Patty recalled. “We knew right away he had to stop carrying Sam.’’

Patty couldn’t carry him, either. Desperate, she called her pediatrician, who put her in touch with Elizabeth Paquette, the nurse at Malden Catholic High School. Paquette said she’d take care of it. The boys at Malden Catholic are taught to embrace service: She’d find plenty of students to help.

Rudy Favard was the first kid Paquette came across after that call. At Malden Catholic on a partial scholarship from the Catholic Schools Foundation, this son of Haitian immigrants was one of Paquette’s treasures. The linebacker, cocaptain of the football team and honor roll student was always willing to lend a hand.

The nurse had barely begun telling Rudy about the Parkers before he said he’d help. Another boy would fill in for Rudy on game nights. And a third boy was on standby in case neither of the others could make it.

When Paquette brought the boys to meet the family for the first time, the Parkers cried.

“Just to see this outpouring of people,’’ Rick Parker began, his eyes welling at the memory. “To see that these people were willing to put their hands and feet to what they believed. . .’’

It is profoundly isolating to have a child as severely disabled as Sammy. It’s hard even for well-meaning friends to understand the immense strain of his all-consuming needs. Patty and Rick — who tried for 8 years to get pregnant before Ben and Sam were born — grieve for one son’s lost potential every day, even as they struggle to give the other as normal a life as possible.

“You plan for your child’s future, but it’s hard to do that for Sam,” Rick said. “You have this pathway he should have taken, and the pathway he did take, and you don’t want to look at either one.”

And over it all hangs the certainty that Sammy’s condition will never improve, even as he grows up.

Five nights a week, into this world of love and hurt comes Rudy. (A nurse assists on the other nights.) In the months the family has known him, the teenager has become not just a help with Sammy but a salve for their pain. He and Rick talk football, Patty quizzes him about girls, and Ben usually sits as close to him as possible. Often, Sammy trembles with excitement as Rudy picks him up.


“They’re like family,” said the shy senior. It goes both ways: The Parkers were on the field with Rudy’s mother the night the school honored its senior football players.

On a recent evening, a reporter watched as Rudy greeted the Parkers and went over to Sammy, gently lifting the child’s arm and sliding his hands under Sammy’s back. He held the boy close to his chest, and as Sammy made his joyful O, Rudy navigated the stairs.

The contrast was stark: the young man preparing to go out into the world carrying someone who never will. It’s a comparison lost on nobody, least of all Rudy.

“Can I ask you something? Is it okay if this article is more about Sam than me? He’s done more for me than I’ve done for him,” Rudy said later. “There are times when I don’t want to go to practice, and then I look at Sam. By God’s grace, I can do what I’m doing, so I should keep it up. I’ve never been one to complain a lot, but just seeing Sam reaffirms everything, you know?”

The Parkers won’t have Rudy for long. He’s been accepted to four colleges; his choice depends on financial aid and football. The family hopes to be in a bigger home—with no stairs—before he leaves.

Until then, Rudy will bound up to this modest house. He’ll carry Sammy up to his room. Then, for a little while, he’ll carry the Parkers somewhere better, too.