Jujyfruits

I hate Jujyfruits.

Seven years ago I loved them.  You know 'em... The impossible-to-chew candies that refuse to come out of your teeth.  Heck, I even ate the black ones.  One box could easily last an entire two hour date night at the movies.

Seven years ago today, I ate my very last Jujyfruit.  I remember exactly where I was and who I was with... Sitting in my last week of masters classes, finishing up listening to my peers' final presentations.  I'd already completed my project, and I remember feeling so satisfied and content as I sat chatting with friends and celebrating our upcoming graduation. 

Less than 24 hours after that class, my life was turned upside down, as I rushed to get to my baby as his undiagnosed heart defect suddenly began taking its toll on his little body.

Seven years seems like a really long time to go without eating one of your favorite candies.  And yet, for some reason I just can't do it.  I feel like if I ate one, I'd foolishly hope to turn back into the person I was on June 30, 2008... The old me.  The naïve mom.  The one that was thankful she had her happy little family and felt so sad for others that didn't.  The one that couldn't imagine how anyone could go on after burying a child.

This is the first year since Nash died that my family won't be in Iowa on July 1st.  We have to be there for a wedding in early August and just couldn't figure out a way to make it work with the two dates so close together.   I've been pushing away the guilty feelings that come with this, but I'm afraid they're starting to creep up on me now that the day is only hours away. 

As most of you know, my boys were visiting Brad's parents in Iowa when Nash became sick.  Despite every effort, I didn't make it to him before he died.  From that day on, I promised him that I'd be at his grave in Iowa every year on July 1st at exactly 5:37pm.  And I've made good on that promise for six straight years.  But this year, I'm breaking it.  And honestly, I'm sick over it.  Logically, I know that we just couldn't make it work this year.  But as a mother, I know I'm letting him down.  And I'm so, so sorry for that.

Seven years doesn't heal any of the grief deep within my heart.  I've learned to cope; to find new ways to bring joy to my life.  I'm proud of what I've accomplished and even helped others in the process... But the reality is that my grief is still raw and still painful and so, so incredibly real. 

Friends... I need something from you tonight.  Prayers.  Please, lots of prayers.  Please pray that Nash forgives me for not being in Iowa "with" him tomorrow.  Please pray for the day to go by quickly.  And please pray that despite the distance between us, our hearts will feel as close as they did back when I still loved Jujyfruits.

Love to y'all,
Tracy

 

 



Dear Class of 2022

To the Class of 2022...

You thought you'd gotten rid of me, didn't you?  Well, not so fast, my friends.

So here's the thing... As happy as I am to begin my summer of no alarm clocks, plenty of pool days, and flip flop tanlines, I'm also so, so sad.

As you know, this was my 13th school year at Brinker, but my very first as a fifth grade teacher.  And as excited as I was for this next chapter and new challenge, I was pretty nervous too.  Nervous that I'd know enough to teach ten and eleven year olds.  Nervous that y'all would like me.  Nervous that I was getting in way over my head.

And then I met you.

Since our very first day together last August, you each have woven your way into my heart.  You've shown me love despite all my shortcomings - and y'all know I have a lot!  You've respected my wishes even when you may not have agreed with them.  You've laughed at my jokes even when they were corny.  You listened (most of the time!) as we trudged through curriculum - from figurative language to inferencing; from ecosystems to energy (who could forget the "baking powder incident" all over my black clothes?!); and from the Civil War to the Great Depression.  You put up with my love of country music when you would've much rather be listening to Maroon 5 or Ed Sheeran.  For all of this and so much more, I'm grateful to each of you.

I promise you... I will NEVER forget my first year as a fifth grade teacher.  And that's mostly because of each of you.  You are a unique group of kids that surpassed every expectation I had.  Whatever it is you brought to our class, I want you to know I noticed and I loved you for it.  Y'all are empathetic - your compassion for our special friends gives me goosebumps; you're intelligent - have you seen those STAAR results?!; you're mischievious - gum chewers, cell phone users, notepassers; you're passionate - about baseball, basketball, lacrosse, reading, dance, and even dogs; you're silly - handholding, the "shimmy," and the list goes on. You've come from all walks of life - literally from across this state, country, and WORLD - and we all ended up here.  Together. 

After 179 days, I know you're probably tired of it, but I'm going to give you just one more bit of advice.  You've heard them all before, but I assure you that if you follow my words, life will take you exactly where you want to go.

Go the extra mile.  Keep your eye on the prize.  If you fall, dust yourself off, and try again.  Treat each other with respect.  Make good choices. Ask for help.  And always, always be true to who YOU are. 

So, my fifth graders, as you move on to bigger and better things, please remember how much of an impact you've had on me.  Thank you all for letting me be just a small part of your journey.  I cannot wait to find out what each of your future holds.  No matter what endeavor you choose, I will be in your corner, cheering you on.

Good luck, my friends, as you begin this next exciting chapter of your lives.  And if you ever need some Brinker love, you know right where to find me.

Love you all,
Mrs. Sievers