After sending N off to school this morning, I got dressed and went to run a couple of errands before heading to B's school to help with Super Friends Day. I needed to get my tire pressure checked, so I hit Discount Tire before heading to Target to "make" 2 dozen cookies.
As I walked in, my phone started ringing, with a "+" then four digits, a sure sign that I'm getting a call from one of the schools. I answered and a woman introduced herself, then said B was fine. When someone from the school calls, especially B's school, my breath always catches in my chest because he's so asthmatic and allergic to everything. I gave an audible sigh of relief, and then she said something that rocked me to my core.
"I'm calling to let you know that one of B's classmates passed away last night from an illness. We have not told the students, but we will have counselors and staff onsite to help in whatever way possible. More information will be sent out as soon as we know more."
What? I know my voice broke as I asked for any other details, but she couldn't give me any. I know all of these kids. Half of them were in B's class last year, so we know each other really well. And, since I'm room mom, I knew for a fact that, aside from allergies, nobody in the class had a terminal illness of any kind.
I abandoned the cookies and took off for the school. When I got into the building, I talked to my British pal at the front desk and asked if I could go to the classroom. She initially said I couldn't, but then told me how upset B's teacher was and said I should go check on her. I went into the classroom, and immediately started looking to see who wasn't there. I hugged B's teacher and told her I was there to do anything I could to help. We talked and she told me what she knew...that this student was fine on Wednesday, something I knew, because the student's father emailed me and said his child would bring cookies for our Super Friends Day, and then Thursday, the student wasn't feeling well...by Thursday night, they were gone.
My eye kept falling on one particular desk, which was odd because when the woman from the school called me, one of my first thoughts was of that student. I asked B's teacher with a nod of my head, and she nodded. And that's when I teared up...because this student? This student had been in class with B last year, too, a kind, caring, sweet, and smart little learner. When I gave the class the task of making a page for a book for their teacher last year, this student was one of four who actually took time to think of something unique to write about her. "My favorite thing about Mrs. Wilkinson is she teaches us harder and harder and harder stuff to make us smart."
And now? They're gone. B's teacher is brand new this year. She graduated from college this last spring, and I can't even begin to imagine how she is feeling. She's a sweet young woman...and so strong. We talked about things we could do to honor the student and their family, and I checked on her (and her class) throughout the day. I threw my homework to the side and stayed. All. Day.
Around 1:30, I decided I was going to head out, so I stuck my head in to make sure she didn't need anything. B was sitting at his desk all by himself, and he looked awful. He'd woken up with terrible allergies at his dad's this morning, and he looked like he'd been in a fight. I told his teacher I was just going to take him home instead, and we left. On the way out, I called B's stepmom to let her know we needed to meet/talk.
She met us at Chick Fil-A, and B played on the playground while I filled her in. When he came out, we talked about the social at school that was meant to take place tonight, and I told him it had been postponed again (last week it was postponed due to rain). He asked why, and I said, "You know...God has a plan for everything, right? He knows when we're going to be born and when we're going to die before we even exist...and the reason they postponed the social is because one of your friends got really really sick."
He looked at me and asked if it was the student by name, and I said yes. He looked at me, terrified and said, "Did they die?" and I nodded my head and said, "Yes." And that's when my baby boy dissolved in my lap, tears running down his face and sobs wracking his little body. His stepmom sat, seemingly unmoved, while I teared up and cuddled my precious boy. He had a million questions about what he could do to help. Could he make something for his friend's parents? Do I know where they live? Can we do it when they have a little time to be sad? Why did it have to be his friend? Should he tell the other kids in his class?
We sat there, the three of us, having a conversation about how it was okay to be sad, and not okay to tell other kids because that's what parents are for, and that we would absolutely do something for the family when it was appropriate. This friend of B's has a younger sibling in Kindergarten, too, so we talked about how hard it would be for them, too.
And I just thought about how horrible this week has been and how I hope to God that it ends before anything else happens...because I honestly don't think I can take it.
Aubs
No comments:
Post a Comment