Mint Condition

I thought of you today, Kathy, as I walked past your empty classroom. It was dark, as it has always been since you stopped work last September. I saw one of the signs I gave you that you taped to the window. I decided I wanted it back. I’ve also been wondering about the snacks you kept in the closet. Did you take the giant container of powdered creamer home?

Martin offered to let me in. He said the creamer was still in the closet, which he unlocked after a few tries. The creamer was gone. I was disappointed. Other people have been in that room. They had no right to take the creamer. It was a tribute to you and your love of coffee.

He had to get to the teacher briefing, but he told me to “take your time. Come into the meeting whenever you’re ready.” I said I would. Then I saw a familiar red-and-white striped circle on the floor. Yup, Kathy, it was one of your peppermint candies you gave me occasionally. I picked it up and looked for more. It was the only one, so I slipped it into my pocket.

I searched for anything else I could take to remind me of you, but little seemed right. I took a picture of one of your bulletin boards, not that this matters to you. And I collected my sign from the window. Oh, that’s right. I also discovered a couple of memes I gave you a few years ago, and collected those. I remember how hard you laughed when I gave them to you. You had such a contagious laugh.

There still isn’t a day that I arrive at work and don’t look to see if you’re in your spot in the library, your stuff spread out on the table, letting me know you’re here. It’s been nine months since I saw you. You were trembling and shivering with pain as I helped you to your car for the second straight day. I’ve never seen anyone as pale as you were. You thanked me often as if I’d done excellent public service, but Kathy, you were my friend, and that’s what friends do.

I stumbled across your Facebook page a few days ago. Your Facebook friends are still there. I’ve wondered for some time how you knew a high school friend of mine, but I forgot to ask. His dad passed away recently. I don’t know what you’re doing now, but maybe you know that. That’s kind of a weird thing to say, I suppose, but I was wondering about this recently while pondering my parents. They’re both where you are, if you’re where I believe you are, and I wonder how much attention any of you is spending on each other? Or is all your attention on the Boss? As ever, just some of that stream-of-consciousness thinking you always heard from me.

Anyway, Kathy, I finished revising Lost My Way in the Darkness a few months ago and added the subtitle, Jack’s Journey. It includes information I forgot in the first edition, and is a better overall read, I hope. Now, I’m working harder on Book Two. You inspired me to write more. I’m doing the best I can.

You fulfilled many great teachings of the Good Book, Kathy. It fills my heart to bursting to know how much of His love you spread to the people we both knew. So many have said that “she was the only one who reached out to me when I was going through this or that difficulty. I’m so thankful for Kathy. She was so kind to me.” You are missed by so many here at your work family.

DeeDee spoke at your service. She retired, and the security personnel have taken over the entire workspace where her desk was located. Your housing now is astronomically better than here, but you’d never recognize this place anymore.

Still, your kindness, passion for education, love for the clients, sense of justice, your friendship, and everything that makes you, YOU, Kathy, are missed. You were a wonderful colleague and friend, and I miss you very, very much. Rest in peace, KJ.

Mack

P.S. Thanks for the final mint. I didn’t keep it in “mint” condition. :-)