When I am teaching, I laugh a lot. I listen to my students making their first few sentences in a classroom that is taught in a language that is not their first language. I learn about their cultures. I learn about each student as an individual. I see growth. I experience healing.
My mind is not on my loss. My heart does not feel quite as broken. I see the future that is in my students' eyes. I am a part of something that is bigger than I and my sorrows. It does feel good to teach again.
On a day like today, I leave my classroom feeling upbeat and happy. I walk across campus to my car grateful for times of peace, joy, and accomplishment . Our class had just had a small Valentine's Day Party. As I walk to car, I see a young mother approaching me. She has her darling sleeping daughter in her arms. The young toddler is dressed so cute in a little hat, coat and boots. I wonder if she can even walk in those cute boots. She seems so small. Suddenly, I find I am weeping. Babies still do that to me.
I think of my darling Julie. I see her in her dressed in her cute little pink coat and her Raggedy Ann hat. I see her impish little smile. I think of how many nights I walked the floor with her because of her persistent earaches as a toddler. I remember her finally falling asleep in my arms only to wake when I put her down because of the pain in her ears. I remember what a sweet baby and child she was. How could I have ever imagined that one day she would take her life. She was a such a sweet, fun-filled, vibrant, loving child. I want to go back to those days when I could hold her in my arms and make whatever was bothering her all better. I want to hold her. I want to carry her. I want to have her curly head tucked on my shoulder.
I've always loved that cup. Julie knew that I like to drink my tea from china mugs. She found the perfect one for me. I always think of her when I use it. After losing her, I just couldn't risk losing the cup that I loved using. It is the special tea cup that she had picked out just for me. Today, I knew I had to use this small memento. It seemed that the only comforting thing I could do was drink some hot tea from the cup that had been a gift from Julie.
Julie smiles at me from the photo made on Amy's wedding day. She smiles at me again from the photo of her, Amy and me that was taken just before a Christmas season parade in Lafayette, Colorado a number of years back.
Not long after Julie's death, I decided to reframe this particular photo, one of several that were her senior pictures. The old frame had become tarnished. I found a frame that I thought the photo would fit. It had hearts on it. The photo was just a bit bigger than the frame, so I trimmed a small amount from each side. That is when I noticed writing. Quickly, I turned the photo over and realized she had written on the back. She had written: