This video, which I haven’t seen in several years, is weighing heavy on my mind these days. My dear friend Bunkey, who has been battling cancer since 2011, is losing her battle. Hospice has given her a few weeks to live, but knowing Bunkey, as I do, she will manage the end of her life on her terms.
She and I met relatively late in our lives but we became fast friends. We shared the same hobbies and the same irreverence for political correctness. We stated our opinions loudly and made each other laugh uncontrollably. We have trusted each other with our most personal secrets knowing that we are truly safe with each other.
Today as I spent time finishing up her last scrapbook, I again reflected on our journey. We have not had a picture taken together in about a month and we won’t. Bunkey doesn’t want anymore pictures that she will feel compelled to scrap. She’s done with that. She is committed to completing “Chipper” a painting of a squirrel that visits her son at his home in Colorado. She would like to finish a quilt for a dear friend who seemed to have been passed over. She wouldn’t allow that.
She and I will sew and plan and spend as much time together as possible. When I look at my life, as a journey on a train, I will always regard Bunkey as my best travel companion. Her quiet bravery is a lesson I will carry with me for a long, long time. I am grateful for our time together and know that having known her, I have been changed for good.
Today at school, well before 9:10, I had delt with at least two eight year old meltdowns. I am convinced that children experience loss on a level we cannot fathom. They are resilient, in the long run, but they truly have not experienced enough life to deal with death. They cannot understand why someone they love needs to be taken from them and the best I can do, as their teacher, is to listen and validate their feelings. Loss isn’t easier when you are a child. That’s a tough lesson.
Prior to 10am there were two children that made the mistake of dipping their fingers in red paint and then showing how they would cause bodily harm to themselves, a habit frowned upon in public school. A situation that caused one to cry incessantly about not wanting his mom to be called and the other explaining how it “would go down” as someone more experienced with visits to the principals office.
Before 11am a child facing the death of a grandparent, unexpected and sudden, cried that he tried to understand, he did know how lucky he was, but he was just sad. “Is that okay?"
By 12 noon, I was sad. I was exhausted and I felt inadequate. To my students who made a bad choice I tried to convince them that they are not bad. That a mistake in 2nd grade will help them not make the same mistake again. To the children experiencing real loss for the first time, a pet, a grandparent, a friend moving “very far away”. You will not forget and the hurt will not feel as bad, in time.
But then my day, which had exhausted me, greeted me with a lift that could not be diminished. At the quilt shop I own, I was given the opportunity to welcome a self contained class of middle schoolers that felt compelled, because of recent studies, to make a difference in someone’s life. They read about Ryan’s Cases for Smiles and decided as a group that they wanted to make pillowcases for children with cancer. Kim, one of my employees, made the arrangements and welcomed the students into the shop today at 10. Betsy came in on her day off and Donna, one of our customers, volunteered to help as well. Seven children, five adults, 7 machines and 2.5 hours yielded 7 pillowcases. The students arrived with one pillowcase each that they had hand sewn and each student successfully completed the sewing of another pillowcase with a machine; none of which had ever operated. To say I was overwhelmed was an understatement. I cried as I bragged about my employees, our customers and those wonderful children with their teachers.
By four I was on my to school speaking to my bestest. The afternoon update I call it when she is too ill to answer the phone. Today I comforted a dear friend who found out today that her doctors did not reveal all of the information about her cancer and her health. Sometimes, as adults, we need to deal with situations that are terminal and just not fair. My morning prepared me for my late afternoon. This has been a day of extreme emotions. I am learning that sometimes I too, just need a hug.
