no words and a guest blog :)

today is one of those days where i have not stopped for one second and i am just exhausted...i literally have no words - so i'm borrowing some.....one of the people who has helped me cope and inspired me to keep writing sent me her own thoughts the other day....and with her permission i am channeling her today.....one more way i am accepting help when its offered :)  its amazing how so many of us have thoughts that mirror one another....that knowledge  has also been a gift - we truly are all in this together.  i hope you find this as moving as i did when i read it the first time.

While going through the box of memorabilia from the past 10 years of the Memorial Garden Society, I was struck by the large number of deaths that have impacted our small community in such a seemingly short period of time.  What at first started as an organizational task of making sense of years of papers, pictures and programs, turned into a somber walk down memory lane.

I examined picture after picture, usually graduation or yearbook photos, of (mostly) young smiling faces with their entire future ahead of them, but tragically cut short by accidents and illnesses.  As each one of those young people posed for that picture, how could they have known how little time they had left? Who does at that age?  Those years are filled with dreams of immortality: It couldn't happen to me.  But it did.  Dreams their loved ones had for them: seeing them graduate, marry, have children of their own, all gone in the blink of an eye.  And even right now, I still see those smiles so vividly.

Even more vivid were the number of times I remember the announcements of those deaths.  Faculty meetings or late night phone calls breaking the news.  A feeling that made it hard to breathe.  Sometimes they came one at a time, sometimes in bunches.  It never gets any easier, and nothing can prepare a teacher for handling something like this with your students.  All you can do is hug and console and listen and cry. 

I read biographies that families wrote for their loved ones:  "We called her Pooh-Bear."  "She loved her brothers and sisters."  "He always thanked me for taking care of him."  "He wanted to be a doctor."  "She was my only child, and my world will never be the same."  All very different people, but very much the same.  To their families, they were the most important person, and now they're gone. 

After almost two hours of research, I stopped, and had a good cry.  It makes you want to go to each family and hug them, and tell them you read those beautiful lines about their daughter or son, and how special you know they must have been, and how sorry you are, but you know you can't because, well, that is unrealistic.  And who are you anyway? Most likely, they don't even know you. But would that matter?  Would it matter who you were if you just wanted to acknowledge the loss of their loved one? 

I once heard a mother who had lost a child say to one of her daughter's friends, "Please, just don't forget her."  I suppose that is a grieving parent's worst fear.  That one day, there won't be anyone left who cares to remember their most precious gift. 

So what are we left to do?  Remember them.  Acknowledge their loss.  Appreciate the gifts we have been given each and every day.

denise childers .... friend, teacher & keeper of the faith