Tuesday, February 15, 2005
MARCH....1987
John celebrated his 30th birthday this month, Jonathan was 12 and Becky turned 33. Aunt Sally called on the 19th to tell us aunt Mary had been taken to the hospital. She had been vomiting blood and told Sally it was time for her to go, she didn’t want her having to deal with any more of the complications of her illness. She died on the 21st of March….the first day of Spring. She had been on morphine around the clock since entering the hospital but had suffered great pain, even so. We were happy her journey ended because, for her, there was no turning back.
Her death touched many lives. She taught school for something like 38-years and had seen many students come and go. She had seen many of them go on to lead impressive lives and return to thank her. It’s amazing what one teacher can do with someone she believes in. Students for the most part came up in systems where the teachers were “career teachers” and did it for the love of training young people to be all they could be. In our crowded and complicated school districts of today the teachers and students are so mobilized they may not even finish the year together.
It makes me sad when I think of the classes and teachers I grew up with. I can name every teacher to this day and describe them to you. I can visualize the rooms and point out where different students sat in those rooms. I can also tell you the impact they each made for my transformation to adulthood. A good teacher is worth more than anything we can accumulate in later life for the “lessons” learned take us through to the very end. I don’t feel today’s teachers receive enough appreciation or nearly enough money for the contributions they are making for the benefit of us all. Someday society will be better or worse for the teaching they’ve received along the way.
It was my responsibility to tell mom that aunt Mary was “gone.” I had been preparing her for the reality of it for weeks. She took it very well but I knew the pain of separation she felt….for all these years they had never really separated from each other. A part of mom was gone after aunt Mary died….and a grieving period that never really left her heart.
I called my brother, Louis, in Seattle to give him plans for the funeral as well as George, Becky and John. George made plans to attend but Becky and John couldn’t make the trip. Louis planned to fly in and join the other nephews who would be pall-bearers. We arrived in heavy rain the evening of the 23rd and went straight to a motel. We joined the family the next morning and greeted relatives who were new arrivals. The rain didn’t let up and so it was difficult getting into the small church and even worse at the cemetery.
The nephews carried aunt Mary to the family grave site….she would lay with her mother and father and some other family members. The mud oozed over the shoe tops of the men and their suits were becoming soiled but they persevered and laid her under the small tent. The pastor spoke more of her own grief than of aunt Mary…..aunt Mary had been her strength during her position as pastor at their church. Even in the last days, aunt Mary continued teaching her about death and the necessity of it. In the context of life not being pleasant or practical anymore and when laced with pain, death is the ultimate gate that leads us to rest.
And so, the Stricklett’s had come together to pay their respects to an elder family member who left no children except for the hundreds she taught over her lifetime. On the first day of Spring, she waved cheerily and walked through the last gate.
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
Her death touched many lives. She taught school for something like 38-years and had seen many students come and go. She had seen many of them go on to lead impressive lives and return to thank her. It’s amazing what one teacher can do with someone she believes in. Students for the most part came up in systems where the teachers were “career teachers” and did it for the love of training young people to be all they could be. In our crowded and complicated school districts of today the teachers and students are so mobilized they may not even finish the year together.
It makes me sad when I think of the classes and teachers I grew up with. I can name every teacher to this day and describe them to you. I can visualize the rooms and point out where different students sat in those rooms. I can also tell you the impact they each made for my transformation to adulthood. A good teacher is worth more than anything we can accumulate in later life for the “lessons” learned take us through to the very end. I don’t feel today’s teachers receive enough appreciation or nearly enough money for the contributions they are making for the benefit of us all. Someday society will be better or worse for the teaching they’ve received along the way.
It was my responsibility to tell mom that aunt Mary was “gone.” I had been preparing her for the reality of it for weeks. She took it very well but I knew the pain of separation she felt….for all these years they had never really separated from each other. A part of mom was gone after aunt Mary died….and a grieving period that never really left her heart.
I called my brother, Louis, in Seattle to give him plans for the funeral as well as George, Becky and John. George made plans to attend but Becky and John couldn’t make the trip. Louis planned to fly in and join the other nephews who would be pall-bearers. We arrived in heavy rain the evening of the 23rd and went straight to a motel. We joined the family the next morning and greeted relatives who were new arrivals. The rain didn’t let up and so it was difficult getting into the small church and even worse at the cemetery.
The nephews carried aunt Mary to the family grave site….she would lay with her mother and father and some other family members. The mud oozed over the shoe tops of the men and their suits were becoming soiled but they persevered and laid her under the small tent. The pastor spoke more of her own grief than of aunt Mary…..aunt Mary had been her strength during her position as pastor at their church. Even in the last days, aunt Mary continued teaching her about death and the necessity of it. In the context of life not being pleasant or practical anymore and when laced with pain, death is the ultimate gate that leads us to rest.
And so, the Stricklett’s had come together to pay their respects to an elder family member who left no children except for the hundreds she taught over her lifetime. On the first day of Spring, she waved cheerily and walked through the last gate.
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
