Easy Comforting

The world is full of people. We're everywhere. We all can be relatively generalized and there's much we all have in common. It's hard to believe how generic we are, because there exist people who light up the world. I may be a physicist, but I believe it's these people who keep the world turning.

Just over a week ago, the world lost one of these people. It's a little darker and a little emptier now, with one of the brightest pieces missing. I knew her originally as my third grade teacher, but she inspired and touched so many people. I attended her funeral on Wednesday and it was unbelievable to listen to the stories. It really is true, you can't have known her without saying "Sue Bowers touched my life" or "she inspired me". There was an opportunity during the service to share a story about her, but through my tears, I was unable to get up; now, I'd like to take some time to share.

Mrs. Bowers loved teaching; you could see it in the way she talked, the way she moved. That first day, the room was filled with an electric energy. It was obvious teaching was her passion. She made every one of us feel like we were capable of everything we dreamed. We might have been one of the most difficult classes shed had, though, as we didn't understand the concept of being quiet. 

That year, I lost my grandpa right at the start of spring break. When school started back up, everything was over and I had to go back. I made it a few days without anything more than lethargy and sadness. But one day, probably three days later, I broke down sobbing in the middle of class. I've never been much of a crier and I've always been very private about my crying, but I couldn't take it anymore. Everyone else was totally normal, and it just wasn't fair.

Mrs. Bowers didn't make a fuss about it, she just quietly directed everyone to the worksheet and came over and talked with me. She led me out to the hallway after a few minutes and just sat with me. Afternoon recess came and went, and she let me be. I'll never forget that, because she knew what to do. She didn't have any words of comfort, just reassurance that I was loved. 

You'd think that was the end, that after third grade I rarely saw her and that moment with her would be it. But it wasn't. She was one of those women I would see periodically throughout my school career back home. Sometimes just at the grocery store or at the park, never when I expected. She was at the VFW when I gave a speech about heroes; I hadn't read it in front of my mother yet, and I said she was my hero in it, and of course she cried, but I didn't expect to cry. Well, I did. And Mrs. Bowers hugged me and congratulated me on my speaking abilities (I was a very cripplingly shy third grader, I wouldn't even raise my hand to ask a question). I received a letter from her a few days later and it meant so much to me.

I invited her to my high school graduation in person, as I tried to do with all of my teachers, and I sat and talked with her for an hour. I didn't realize how much I had to say until I said it. She was blown away by all of the things I want to do in life, and it's hard to explain how much she believed in me, because I could just tell.

When she came to my party, I could see how proud she was of me. I didn't know what to say, and I still wouldn't, if I had the chance. But I'll always cherish the card she gave me, and the copy of You Are Special by Max Lucado. I took the photo album she gave me to college, and it holds all of my important memories. These things came with me to Michigan before I knew she was sick, but now I am so glad to have them.

It's selfish of me, I know, but I'm going to miss the opportunity to grow closer to her and to share with her all of the things I'm going to do because she was just an inspiration and beautiful support. 

"Easy comforting isn't comforting." The only reason I know these words to be so true is because John Green knew a wonderful girl who died of cancer, a girl who would have been an amazing woman much like Mrs. Bowers. And it's true; I didn't know what to say to her husband at her funeral. In fact, I cried so much more during the service than he did. I literally couldn't stop.

The world isn't the same, but how could it ever be? Robert Frost was right indeed. Life just goes on. The trick is to learn to live with all of the memories and allow them to be part of the future without taking over.

May we all find peace in our lives.