ASHES
"If we don't have each other, we don't have anything."
-- The Outsiders
Breathe into me and make me real
Bring me to life
Bring me to life
(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
-Evanescence "Bring Me to Life"
I.
At the conclusion of our study
of The Outsiders, I found a YouTube video
that incorporated quotes from the book
against the background of
movie photos and Evanescence.
It was a fitting conclusion.
But we never know how music will
move people. We never know what
is on a young person's mind. What
pain they carry in their hearts.
Soon I discovered a student crying;
not just a little, but a lot.
The song reminded her of when her
father suddenly died. She had the date
in August 2011 written on a piece of paper,
large, in black Sharpie. She kept repeating,
"He just died" and crying, full of unremitting
grief. She left to talk with a counselor, and
came back shortly thereafter cheerful and
renewed.
We never know when grief will strike.
II.
I think it was this incident on Friday
that caused me to think of a student
from last year, one I haven't thought
about this entire school year. Blonde,
teddy-bearish, crooked smile, blue eyed,
Tanner's handwriting reminded me of
my father's. At one point in early fall
I thought he seemed to be carrying some
anger. I recommended the book
Touching Spirit Bear and he borrowed
it from me, never to be seen again.
Because his house burned down.
He had been the "hero" -- waking up in
the night and discovering that a fire in
the attic of the garage was beginning to
spread into their home. He got everyone
out. He never spoke of it in class, never
wrote about it any creative writing adventures.
Shortly after the fire, his brother survived a
motorcycle crash. Then Tanner
wiped out on a skateboard, knocking out
two teeth.
The hits just kept coming.
A few days before Thanksgiving the class
was working on an assignment. I looked up and
noticed Tanner had pulled his chair over
near the window, with his back to me.
He was crying. Right there in the classroom,
while the students worked, he was crying.
What sixteen-year-old boy would sit in
class and cry if not totally overwhelmed?
We never know grief will strike.
I asked him if he wanted to talk with a
counselor. No.
His friend Alex came over and sat with him.
When the bell rang, I told them they could stay during the
lunch period, but they declined. Gathering their
backpacks, they walked slowly out of the room.
I watched them, two friends sauntering together down
the hallway, the grief dissipating in the width and
length of the corridor.
Never happened again. Nothing ever said.
Later in the school year, Tanner's dad had to get
analyzed for possible kidney dialysis.
Alex would face his own health issues.
Muscles not working, couldn't walk,
missed a lot of fourth quarter.
When it rains it pours and sometimes it just doesn't seem fair.
III.
So now these young men should be graduating high school
next month; what is left of these four years in ashes.
I wonder if Alex can walk the stage.
I wonder how Tanner's family has healed from
all the trauma. I wonder why it has taken me
so damn long to remember them, to think of them
and pray for their peace of mind, their happiness,
their healing of body, spirit, and mind.
It seems I have been the one needing waking up.
Because it can and will happen again.
Pain, tragedy, and trauma aren't going away.
Grief will strike.
I need to be ready.
hms
