A story revisited 🥺
It was a spring day with wide cerulean skies and clouds of cotton puffs as I stepped out of my vehicle, as per usual, when I saw the employee approaching with my curbside grocery order. I am a regular customer, so I tend to know the names and faces of the usual employees, but she was new to me. Therefore, I was surprised when she asked if I was a teacher. I smiled, and said that I was. I could have never predicted what she would next say.
As she talked, there it was. The wound, which I thought had healed, was painfully stabbed open. It is an unfortunate story, centering on a young family, a classroom of five-year-olds, their parents, and me–bound together by a loss too surreal to be true– yet it was.
She said she attended the funeral and saw me, and she added that she related to the family. Additionally, she added that all her kids attended that same school in which I once taught, now nearly 20 years later. As what appeared to be an after-thought she added, “You was a good teacher.”
I asked about the surviving family and the sibling, who was only a baby at the time of the event. The sibling, she reported, was now studying at a university. This bit of information buoyed my spirit.
An event that forever changed me 😨
With over three and half decades in education, I can look back at certain points in my career and identify pivotal moments that forever changed me. This loss of a five-year-old student was probably one of the most defining moments in my career. It sent me spiraling into a deep darkness for which I believed I should keep hidden from the world because it was my face those cherished students and their parents looked to for strength and stability–or at least that is how I perceived the situation at the time.
On the inside, I was crumbling, questioning everything my faith had taught me. Angry at that the Universe would allow such a senseless death, and angry at myself for what felt like was my “butterfly-effect” that seemingly set the wheels in motion for this tragedy. Emotions, which I now know, can override logic during unexpected loss.
Outwardly for the world, I did the best I could, but none of my training had prepared me. While there were times, I felt led from within by a Source greater than myself. Other times, I felt I was driving a car without headlights after a severe storm, stumbling and bumping up against one roadblock after another.
Days of Mourning 😢
There were countless days when my students would just cry, and so I let them, allowing their tears to express what they could not put into words. I hugged them often, and permitted/encouraged them to express their feelings in a safe and productive ways. They drew pictures, decorated their former classmates’ seat, and took turns holding and talking to a bear that had been built for them to help process their grief.
Some students, who weren’t as verbal as others, became noticeably aggressive as they moved through stages of grief. This required much patience and tolerance. While I understood they needed to get out their anger as they were not developmentally old enough to understand death, I could not let them harm other students. Therefore, I had to come up with creative outlets for their feelings, such as allowing them to be the official “wrecking ball” if someone wanted their block creation knocked over or the official “paper shredder” of messed-up papers.
Sometimes, Life isn’t fair 😩
Thinking back to that tragedy, I wish I could go back to my younger self and say, “You’re doing ok,” in the same way I would have said to my students at the time. Instead, I spent much time questioning what more I should be doing. And, each night, when I went home to my own beloved daughter the exact same age, I felt simultaneously grateful and guilty. Why did I get to keep my child, but someone else didn’t? It wasn’t fair.
Nearly 20 years later . . .⏳
Now, nearly 20 years later, life continues to march on at a breathtaking pace. Those students are now in their 25th year of life. They are all, I hope, making their way into their independence, exploring the edges of the kind of responsible adult they want to evolve into. I pray they will each find their own version of success, however they define it.
I especially hope the child’s family is well. They were dealt a tragic blow for which I have no explanation. I am certain it has not been easy for them, but I pray their hearts continue to mend to the degree possible. Most of all, I wish them peace.
Does time Really heal? ❤️🩹
They say time heals all wounds, but I am not sure. The wounds may heal, but the scar still remains. Like all scars, they fade with the passing of time, but those scars remain as a reminder of who we once were.
Once there was a young family of four, until suddenly there were three. Once I was a kindergarten teacher with 15 students, and, in the blink of an eye, there were 14. I wish I knew why, but that is not for me to understand. Instead, I will forever be haunted by what more I could have done.
Looking back on the love 💜
Nonetheless, looking back now, what I most recall is the love. Love for the departed student, love for the other students of that class, and deep abiding appreciation for those students’ parents who unconditionally supported me and guided their children tirelessly through what had to be one of the darkest periods in their young and tender lives.
Their is beauty in life, even if short lived 🌸
On the day of writing this, I went for a run in a park. It was early spring, and the air held the promise of warmer days. All around me the wind blew off the white petals of flowering trees, and the petals danced around me like snowflakes, graceful on the currents of air. I realized, the flowers will soon be replaced by the green leaves, and the cycle of life will continue through the seasons. However, in that moment, I could not help but feel those petals were a heavenly reminder of the beauty that is possible in life–even if for only a short time.
Musician and writer, Nick Cave, is said to have written in a letter, “Grief and love are forever intertwined. Grief is the terrible reminder of the depths of our love and, like love, grief is non-negotiable.” I couldn’t agree more.
Steph Simply 