I had the opportunity to spend some time in Michael's class yesterday ... this last day of fourth grade for the students in his class. I hadn't planned on being there. But one of his best friends e-mailed me, asking if I would come see her. How could I say no to that? I couldn't and so I made certain that it was fine with Mrs. Branch. It was. And so I went.
And oh how thankful I am that I did.
The kids in his class are the sweetest of the bunch. I can't imagine a better class. They are all friends. They all cheer on each other. And they are lead by one of the most amazing women. Mrs. Branch is a gem of a teacher. I love her. Michael loved her. She is one of those people that lights up the room. That made Michael a lover of school. Quite a feat for a boy who was never a fan of the inside of the classroom.
To be truthful, the day was bittersweet. I loved being in the class. But such a big part was missing. He was missing. He would have been thrilled. Going to fifth grade. The rulers of the school. The top dogs. He would have loved it. Counted down the loudest. High fived his friends. We would have celebrated the weekend at Disney World. He would have strutted like a peacock.
It would have been fun. It would have been exciting. It would have been a proud moment.
Instead, it is sad. Just another moment in the laundry list of moments that I won't have. That I won't collect in the recesses of my memory. To tell his grandchildren.