the phone rings, the school principal calling.
she tells me Izzy’s teacher has died.
my insides crumple like wilted flowers
i choke up and cry ugly tears, wiping snot on my shirt
and all i can think is how i will tell my precious girl, my sweet pirate girl, this news.
her teacher who loved animals, the color pink, and Fluffy Fresh donuts.
Birth is a beginning
And death a destination
And life is a journey,
A sacred pilgrimage-
To life everlasting.
Izzy cries and clings and asks questions, some we’re unprepared for.
we muddle through as best we can. we make an Izzy sandwich on the sofa–
cuddling and snuggling her, letting her sob as we tell her it’s okay to be sad.
i feel like a child myself again, grasping for answers, fear of the unknown.
we tell her mrs. utterback will be free from pain
and she’ll have a cozy bed in the sky from which she can watch and hear us.
we tell her she can talk to mrs. utterback anytime she wants, and draw her pictures.
so she does: