We received sad news. One of our fifth grade students passed away on Thursday. The death of a child is one of the hardest events to process. He was such a “little old man” kind of student. He came to our school in third grade. He was in my buddy class as a third grader and again last year as a fourth grader. I remember his impish smile. He arrived with little English but he jumped into his American school whole-heartedly. He definitely had a way of getting his message across and making his presence known.
I’ve been thinking of this young person’s life all morning. How devastated his family and friends must feel. How overwhelming, confusing and ANGRY. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to the world.
During my yoga class this morning my mind wandered as I was supposed to be focusing on my breath. Breath and death, rhyming antonyms, I’d never noticed that before.
I, as I know most of us, go around in my little bubble of a world, assuming tomorrow will come, assuming I will see another sunrise, another sunset, another rainbow. Assuming I will have another chance to interact with a student, another time to listen to a child’s story, another chance to connect.
Sometimes, however, time stops. Breath stops. There is death and it is sad.