In Remembrance

Eleven years ago, a good friend of mine died in a car accident on the way to school. He swerved to miss a deer and flipped his Ford Explorer. We were juniors in high school at the time and in the band together. Along with some friends, we would carpool to the early-morning marching practices. I think it was during chemistry that an administrator came over the announcements and asked all the band members to come to the band hall. By this time there were rumors, but nobody knew what was going on. While the rest of the school heard the news, our band director told us that Josh had died that morning. I can still feel the reaction of that room in my bones. I remember my girlfriend at the time just disappearing outside, needing to be alone. I can still taste the disbelief; I didn't know what it would even mean for this to be real. I remember what it's like not to be able to say goodbye, and not even knowing that I would have to. I remember the empty seat in my English class the next day, my teacher's tears, and the sense that nobody really knew what we should be doing next

I was supposed to read part of the Apostles' Creed at his funeral, but I couldn't get through it, leaving to sit in the hallway behind the alter to cry

These thoughts come back to me now because I find myself in the opposite role. A student at the high school where I teach was in a car accident over the weekend. Her conditioned worsened as the week went by, and she passed away a few hours ago. Gaby was not a student of mine, but she was a junior, so most of her classmates are. The school is quiet and somber. The everyday teenage banter is gone, as they were all forced to become adults for a little while, to face a harsh side of life for which we teachers try to prepare them, and from which we simultaneously want to protect them. No one is telling jokes or throwing things at the trash can. The occasional loud passerby sounds out of place, irreverent.

We had a test scheduled today, and out of a small hope that some normalcy might help, I'm asking my students to take it still (with exceptions and the opportunity to try again next week, of course).

None of my students have asked me how this could have happened or why did God take Gaby away. I think that fitting a tragedy into some mental framework comes later. For now, they just need a comforting smile or a few minutes to let their tears dry. They need someone to be strong so they don't have to be. They need a hug from their friends and a little space to grieve.

Don't we all.