“I am a mother, and this week I had to tell Mr. […]’s mother that she will not be seeing her son again. I have children, and this week I had to tell two beautiful daughters that they no longer have a father.”
This is an excerpt from a parent letter we received from the school’s superintendent. On the day I drove for the first time, a teacher was hit by a car while crossing the street near the school. He died.
We are too new to know who he is, we are not sure whether he is American or British, but we hear how kids love him.
A mom turned to me and whispered, “How sad, so far away from home.” That comment brought on such profound sadness in me. When you are away from home, even death feels different.
So tonight, I’m not going to think it is a working morning in America. I’m not going to work. I’m going to watch a movie with my children, squeezed between them.
And, I’ll make every Friday night my children’s night.