The First Day of School
I haven't written in my blog in over a month. Not because everything has been fine and dandy and I'm "all better," but because I haven't had any motivation to sit down and write anything. For a while I didn't have any ideas, but even when I came up with some, I still didn't feel like writing.
Tomorrow is the first day of school in our town. For most families, that means shopping for school supplies, getting the backpack out of the closet (or buying a new one) and feeling the excitement of "Meet the Teacher" day.
Most families get to send all their children off to school. They'll get to take a first day of school photo, post it on Facebook, and kiss their kids goodbye in the morning. Not our family. We should be shopping for two sets of supplies. We should be getting out two backpacks and two lunch boxes. We should be meeting two new teachers. Instead, we only have our one son left.
This year is bittersweet because I am now teaching at the school Jameson attended. Have I ever mentioned that I hate the word "bittersweet?" It's so cliche. Let's be real. When we say bittersweet, we mostly mean bitter, but in order to not sound so negative, we say "bittersweet." There's nothing sweet about having to walk by your deceased son's 3rd grade classroom to get to yours. There's nothing sweet about a bulletin board with class lists on it and having one little boy's name not listed anywhere. To be perfectly honest, there's not much sweet about this next milestone we have to endure. Sure, I'm looking forward to teaching 2nd grade. I think I'll love it, because this is such a great age. I'm looking forward to all the chapter books we'll read, the field trips we'll take, and getting to teach them cursive. Unfortunately, all of that goodness can't make up for the fact that my bub is not here and never will be. His friends from 3rd grade get to move on without him.
I can't help but wonder who his 4th grade teacher would have been. It's so unfair- my God, this kid didn't even get to finish elementary school! This afternoon, all of the teachers toured each other's classrooms. It was lovely, except that I just couldn't do 4th grade. I tried. I walked into one room, glanced at the desks and saw the names of Jameson's friends. That's all I could do. I quickly left before I had a chance to lose it. I couldn't let myself get upset right before Meet the Teacher. What I wanted to do was sit down in the middle of a 4th grade classroom and bawl my eyes out. My son should be here. He should be learning about North Carolina history. He should be learning long division.
It's been almost 6 months since Jameson died. It feels so far away. It's been almost half a year. On the other hand it still feels like he was just here and that not that much time has passed at all. It is still so fresh, much more fresh than I bet a lot of people think. There are some days that aren't so bad, and even peaceful, and then there are days that the pain is so great that you wonder if it really is possible to die from a broken heart.
As other families get to see off their children on the first day of school, this blue backpack will remain on this shelf, just where Jameson left it when he finished his homework on February 26th. His 3rd grade folder is still inside. This blue lunchbox that he got for Christmas will stay on top of the refrigerator. It won't hold cold juice boxes or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It'll stay here and just get dusty.
Ever since I went back to teaching and worked at a school in the next town over, Jameson was always asking me when I'd come work at his school. Now that I'm here, he doesn't even get to enjoy it.
Tomorrow is the first day of school in our town. For most families, that means shopping for school supplies, getting the backpack out of the closet (or buying a new one) and feeling the excitement of "Meet the Teacher" day.
Most families get to send all their children off to school. They'll get to take a first day of school photo, post it on Facebook, and kiss their kids goodbye in the morning. Not our family. We should be shopping for two sets of supplies. We should be getting out two backpacks and two lunch boxes. We should be meeting two new teachers. Instead, we only have our one son left.
This year is bittersweet because I am now teaching at the school Jameson attended. Have I ever mentioned that I hate the word "bittersweet?" It's so cliche. Let's be real. When we say bittersweet, we mostly mean bitter, but in order to not sound so negative, we say "bittersweet." There's nothing sweet about having to walk by your deceased son's 3rd grade classroom to get to yours. There's nothing sweet about a bulletin board with class lists on it and having one little boy's name not listed anywhere. To be perfectly honest, there's not much sweet about this next milestone we have to endure. Sure, I'm looking forward to teaching 2nd grade. I think I'll love it, because this is such a great age. I'm looking forward to all the chapter books we'll read, the field trips we'll take, and getting to teach them cursive. Unfortunately, all of that goodness can't make up for the fact that my bub is not here and never will be. His friends from 3rd grade get to move on without him.
I can't help but wonder who his 4th grade teacher would have been. It's so unfair- my God, this kid didn't even get to finish elementary school! This afternoon, all of the teachers toured each other's classrooms. It was lovely, except that I just couldn't do 4th grade. I tried. I walked into one room, glanced at the desks and saw the names of Jameson's friends. That's all I could do. I quickly left before I had a chance to lose it. I couldn't let myself get upset right before Meet the Teacher. What I wanted to do was sit down in the middle of a 4th grade classroom and bawl my eyes out. My son should be here. He should be learning about North Carolina history. He should be learning long division.
It's been almost 6 months since Jameson died. It feels so far away. It's been almost half a year. On the other hand it still feels like he was just here and that not that much time has passed at all. It is still so fresh, much more fresh than I bet a lot of people think. There are some days that aren't so bad, and even peaceful, and then there are days that the pain is so great that you wonder if it really is possible to die from a broken heart.
As other families get to see off their children on the first day of school, this blue backpack will remain on this shelf, just where Jameson left it when he finished his homework on February 26th. His 3rd grade folder is still inside. This blue lunchbox that he got for Christmas will stay on top of the refrigerator. It won't hold cold juice boxes or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It'll stay here and just get dusty.
2014: Jameson's very first day of preschool
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