I just found out that one of my favourite high school teachers died yesterday. Sad. Very sad.
Remember this post that I wrote as an ode to the teachers who invested quality time and energy into molding my mind and life?? Well, the Mrs Mullings I spoke of died of cancer yesterday.
I feel it in places I didn't even know I had.
I feel it in ways I can't explain or imagine.
I mean, it hurts. It really, really hurts. And I just want to cry and get mad and thump a pillow.
And after all that, I look around my sorry room and realise none of that really helps because it doesn't change the fact, the irreversible fact, that she is GONE. Gone. I don't even know what to say. And I never got the chance to say a million and one things to her that I should have said, could have said... don't know why I never said them.
Mrs. Mullings was my teacher-- my teacher. She was as precious as they come. She was a rare gem. A real beauty - inside and out. I miss her already, even though I have not seen her in years. Miss her dearly, and deeply. I almost feel wounded.
That was one of my favourite teachers. What she did for me.... what she did for me!! It was a miracle. In my life. She worked a miracle. And I will never get to say these things to her. Not in this life, anyway. Not anymore.
I've always had this grand plan in the back of my mind to one day go home and just shower my teachers with love. At this big luncheon, at a time when I would be able to adequately, truly express the depth of my appreciation to them all at once. How can I do that if, as time goes by, they all start leaving, one by one... I need a new plan. Because this one is too risky. I risk missing another opportunity to let someone special know just how special they are.
Mrs. Mullings was the wind beneath my wings for most of my high school life. The way she believed in me when I was still finding my footing, still trying to figure out who I was and where I was going, and why... the way she encouraged. When I was drowning in depression and despondency.... the way she taught, with eloquence, such grace and unparallelled clarity, the patience she had... the times I could catch her outside of class hours and get her to teach me something I missed in class all over again... the way she held on to grand hopes for ALL her students, not one, not some... she believed in ALL of US!! The way her life was well-lived, and she spent her years working small miracles in little lives everyday...
A life like that should get honorary prolongation. For being so well-spent. A life like that deserves to live on... A mind like that should have written books, thousands of books, or at least one good one, explaining the years and the experience, immortal knowledge bequeathed to the next generation. So much has left the world with Mrs. Mullings' death. So much more has left my life. It makes me tremendously sad.
Another death to deal with?? I don't know if I can handle it. Nobody told me that, in your early twenties, you start to see and feel death in a much more personal way... a warning of some kind would have been nice. I really would have liked to know so I could prepare... see, I like to be prepared. And why does it just do that - how can news like this just completely disrupt your life and your mind, and knock the wind out of you and, no matter how calmly you think you can handle it, completely take you by surprise??
I'm not liking this very much at all. I'd like to stay home from work today and just bawl. (Sadly enough, that line rhymes).