Style Stories: Fictional SoFlo Lives & Deaths

Dear Louise,

It feels wrong to call you by your first name-- sort of dsirespectful like I should be calling you Ms. Pollard as your students did. You were the kind of teacher a person grows up and reflects on how they impacted their life.

Dear Lord, how the parents clawed their way past one another to get their little ones in your first grade class. One parent confessed she would sneak in to your class right after you prepared it for the new school year just to give her child a "sneak peek" in to the wonderful world they would entering having you as their new teacher (cuh-reepy if you ask me).

I don't think you would have been any different if you and John had children of your own-- you had genuine love for the kids and were their biggest cheerleader. John would ask if it was really necessary to bring back 28 souvenirs from your summer cruises. You'd say it most certainly was necessary.

Louise, I've learned quite a bit about the terrible disease that led to your demise. To an observer, it looks like ALS takes a person's functions and freedoms one by one.  I can't imagine how you struggled to hide your losses-- gripping and dropping a marker, going from walking to needing a power wheelchair, and finally needing a ventilator. 

Here is where I tip my hat to you, Ms. Pollard. You realized you were going to die from ALS. You cried ( a lot) with John-- so much with him, then you mobilized to get things in order, from your students' progress notes to the details of your personal affairs. John tells the story ( a lot) that the school supplies you had stored-- and hidden-- at home would be given to your favorite teachers at the school.

Farewell, Ms. Pollard, and thank you for the love you gave to all who had the privilege to know you.

Warm (final) wishes,

Death Douliz