By William Smith
Thirteen-year-old Mason Roberts was a gentleman beyond his years, ensuring everyone around him was happy and comfortable — even when he was dying.
Before being confined to a hospital room at the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics in Iowa City, Mason was a student at Danville Community School. But he didn’t need a classroom to satiate his thirst for history. His final wish facilitated by the Make-A-Wish Foundation was to visit Pearl Harbor.
Mason never got to make that trip. He died on April 30.
Before he passed, Mason asked that his sister Alexis — the mother hen who watched over him with the same passion as their parents — would get the wish instead.
On his final day, every Iowa City doctor who treated Mason visited him one final time. His kindness and intelligence turned him into somewhat of a celebrity at the hospital, and he handled it with the humility he was known for.
Further exemplifying that classic definition of a true gentleman, Mason sat up in his bed and waved at each of them individually, acknowledging their presence.
Danville residents and much of the surrounding community said goodbye to Mason during a public memorial service on Friday in the tiny town’s park, the circumstances and delivery as unique as Mason’s disease — and the boy himself.
Since birth, Mason struggled with the extremely rare lymphatic disease KLA (Kaposiform Lymphangiomatosis). His was one of 50 cases in the country, and it took his voice shortly before his death. During a brief respite from his silence, he sang his favorite song “American Pie," which was performed live at his funeral service.
Due to social distancing restrictions concerning the COVID-19 pandemic, all attendees except close family and friends attended the service from the seat of their cars. More than 100 vehicles gathered tightly in Danville Park, directed by Des Moines County Sheriff deputies who acted as vehicle ushers. A low band radio station acted as the amplifier.
Many attendees wore green T-shirts with a drawing of Yoda from “Stars Wars” on the front, a tribute to Mason’s love for the series. His obsession with George Lucas’s fictional word transcended the movies and TV shows, delving into the massive line of literature that populates the Stars Wars universe.
As the Rev. Clay Baker pointed out during the service, Mason was impossible to beat at Star Wars trivia. Thanks to the vast amount of storage space in his ever-curious brain, Mason was hard to beat at any kind of trivia, especially in history.
Never complaining or showing others his pain, Mason was only allowed to see one of his parents at a time due to pandemic restrictions. But on his birthday, two weeks before his death, Mason got a surprise far more substantial than the slushy he asked for. Both his parents were able to visit at the same time, as well as his grandparents.
Mason cried with joy, Baker said.
One of his final requests was to see his sister. He knew he would be leaving her soon, though his fear was largely abated by his faith in God and the afterlife.
His voice down to a croak, he whispered his favorite Dr. Seuss quote.
“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened,” Mason told her.