I remember the moment as clearly as if it happened yesterday. I suppose it’s stayed with me all of these years because it was the first time I really knew for certain that bad things could happen to good people, that tragedy could reach out and grab hold of anyone at anytime, even someone as young as me. It made a lasting impression on my eleven-year old mind…
That particular school year was one of great transition; multiple elementary schools funneled students into several sixth grade middle school ‘teams’. Suddenly there were hundreds of additional classmates to get to know, with different teachers instructing us in the various subjects instead of one person like before.
My homeroom desk sat in the middle row, center aisle of Mrs. K’s room; she arranged her classroom so that every desk faced the doorway to make full use of the space. We had just gotten settled…another ordinary school day was underway…
Until Mrs. K walked in… Her customary smile was missing and tears glistened in her eyes. She quietly asked Abby (not her real name) to collect her things so they could go to the office; Abby’s parents were on the way to get her and her siblings.
A short while later, we learned there had been a terrible car accident that morning; Abby’s 17-year old brother passed away because of it.
Her desk in homeroom was directly behind mine; it stayed empty for what seemed to be a very long time…
This classmate and her sister were at the class reunion last weekend. Our catch-up conversation covered the usual topics: where do you live now, what do you do, are you married, how many children do you have…
I answered the last question the same way I always do…
“I’m so sorry. How old was he? You know our brother died…”
“Brian was 17. I often thought about you and your family, how you managed to survive…I’ve never forgotten what happened to your brother…”
I think she was surprised that I remembered, that I could even recall his name and the timing of when it occurred.
“Our parents went through the motions of life because they had to. They had the rest of us to take care of, so they really had no choice. But they were never the same afterward. It was a wound that couldn’t heal; it would scab and scar over, then without warning, rip wide open again. They never got over it.”
How well I understand. The heart always remembers what the mind longs to forget…
Wishing you many blessings and hope…tg
Tammy will update her blog twice weekly…
