Dealing with grief again
One of the most important people in the world has died.
She wasn't someone that anyone would recognize.
She was never on television.
She never invented anything.
She most certainly did NOT make a lot of money.
But she was brave. And great. And beautiful inside.
I found out that my favorite teacher died.
She believed in me.
She wrote me letters as I was growing up-- a lot. She always signed them, "Love you, Mrs. ____"
She let me come visit her at her house.
She and her husband took me out to dinner a few times.
When I lived in far and got into the Gifted program , she sent me flowers with a note that said "I knew you could do it."
School was a safe haven to me-- I LOVED school. I never wanted to leave there. On the last day of 2nd grade, I cried like a baby as I got on the bus. She reached her hand up to the bus window and told me everything would be ok, that she would still be there in the fall.
That year Tuck was around a lot, we went through our "I'm really a boy" stage. At Halloween we dressed up like Peter Pan. She was ok when Tuck kept going around saying "I'm a boy, I'm Peter Pan," and she kept saying "OK, you're a boy, you make a good Peter Pan." She told us we were great at playing football with the boys at recess, and that we were nice and sweet when we played with dolls with the girls at recess.
She tried to help me learn to cope with life, with changes, with new teachers that came along, with moving a lot. Her letters are filled with advice, and with little things like talking about her garden, her husband, the weather. (I still cherish all those letters.)
She used to say things to me "Missy, the world is full of change, and you're going to have to learn to deal with it-- its going to be ok. " And "Missy, not every teacher you have is going to be friendly, and not every situation you go through is going to be good-- but that's what makes like an adventure."
I loved it when she called me Missy. It made me feel strong. Competent. It makes me wonder... is that the beginning of our Missy inside that we later developed?
Did I tell her thank you? Enough? Did I tell her I love you? Enough? Did she realize that I worshipped her? That the world revolved around her when I was 8? That I lived, breathed, and adored her that year? Were all my letters, drawings, and presents those 15 years or so enough?
She taught me so much. It was in her class that I decided to become a special ed teacher. Do I carry on her legacy well enough? Do I do the things she taught me well? Did she know what I became? I wrote to her, and to my kindergarten teacher, about how I became a teacher to be like them. But did she understand--- I WANT TO BE LIKE YOU. THIS IS FOR YOU. I DO THIS BECAUSE OF YOU.
She wasn't supposed to die. She was supposed to live forever. Favorite teachers are supposed to live forever.
my heart hurts.
Posted by pilgrim | Filed under:
Indeed, a most touching tribute. You were lucky to have had her. She was lucky to have had you.
Be glad you had her, keep her alive in your heart and how you teach. That is your remembrance of her and all she taught you. It is okay to hurt over your loss, she is special and always will be, deservedly so.
peace and blessings
keepers
I am very sorry for your loss. I'm sure she knew how you felt about her. And I bet she's still rooting for you.
It's encouraging to see how just one person can make such a difference in a child's life. Imagine if you hadn't had this wonderful, caring teacher to believe in you!
You will always have the memory of her influence to treasure. Her legacy lives on in you, which in turn may be passed down to some other special child who needs exactly what you are able to give.
I'm sure those letters from you touched her heart everyday and everytime and then for a long time afterward.
You will see her again. But for now, it hurts. I'm sorry.
So touching...your tribute to a soul who had the desire and the skills to touch your soul.
She is alive, in all you do, as a teacher and as a person who recognizes pain in others, as one who reaches out to others and as one who offers a "safe place" for others.
May her spirit continue to gently comfort and to deeply inspire you, Pilgrim!
What a wonderful tribute to an obviously beautiful person. She lives in your words, she lives in your memories of her. Her legacy lives in the good work that you do with your kids.
This is one of my favourite poems
What is dying? I am standing on the sea shore, a ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean. She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says: “She is gone.” Gone! Where? Gone from my sight—that is all. She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination. The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her, and just at the moment when someone at my side says, “She is gone” there are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout: “There she comes!” — and that is dying.