Trailhead--Loss, Grief, and a Toad

Grief has a way of bringing out the worst in us, but also the best in us--if we let it. Over a year ago, I lost a good friend to her battle with cancer. The loss of a friend and colleague was one of the hardest losses that I have experienced. It was exacerbated by the fact that she was a teacher, just like me. Who put her heat and soul into her job and it showed. Telling her former students that next day was gut wrenching to say the least, but seeing them at her viewing and funeral solidified that fact that teachers do make a difference in the lives of those that we teach. 

The days and weeks following her death put me in a tailspin. I did not know what to do. Cleaning out her classroom was as healing as it was hurtful. To see what a life in education ends with--boxes of donate, posters in the recycle, and things left behind for the person who will take their place. My wife and I were blessed to have been able to visit with her just days before her passing. She kept saying that she would have done a lot differently--she would have been present more for her own children, spent less time lesson planning, and focused more on herself and her family. Little did she know that her dedication and tenacity for teaching what the legacy that she left not just for her students and colleagues, but for her family as well. 

Shortly after her death, I experienced some health problems and needed to do something. I turned to hiking and meditation. I tried to not just become physically active, but emotionally active. Hiking your way through grief is a great way to get back in touch with nature. You notice more, feel more--you soak it all in knowing that you don't know when your last hike will be. 

On that first hike after loosing my friend, I saw a toad along the trail and I was immediately taken to one of my favorite novels to teach in 5th grade, Tuck Everlasting. A story of growing up (or not) full of symbolism--the wheel of life, the perpetual turning of the seasons, and the infamous toad. The one who Winnie pours the water from the spring of life so it will not die--seeing that toad reminded me that we are all on a cycle of seasons in our lives. I was taking back to the funeral. The Jewish custom of lowering the body into the grave and placing shovels of dirt on the casket was new to me--but it was so very special. It brought me back to my roots and core of nature, life, and ecology. The idea of being returned to earth was acted out before me--and was the beginning of my healing. 

Along that same walk I noticed the butterflies and mayapple blooming--and came upon a spring. Another symbol--water. The water of baptism, the water of life, a need for human existence. In the novel, Winnie is faced with a choice of drinking the spring water and living forever or dying at some point in her life. The struck of the Tucks' existence and it's impact is experienced in the Epilogue where the reader learns that Winnie has lived a long life, but has joined those before her in the graveyard. We should all be so lucky to live a long life. 

That first hike turned into many that summer as I grappled with so much change. I was leaving the classroom after 16 years and becoming a math specialist. A job that my friend said was perfect for me. So many times that summer I wanted to change course, find a familiar trail head and go back into the classroom--a world that was familiar, safe, and calming. But I also heard those last words she shared with me--so excited for what was to come. A journey that I look back on now, 14 months later and realize was the one I needed--a teacher to the end...