Friday, October 3, 2008

Never again

I saw something today that I hope I never have to see again...a 7 year old child in a casket. We've had a rough few days at school. On Tuesday morning, I was in my hall, waiting for my students to arrive. The first few came in with tales of an ambulance in the drop off line. A sub came down the hall saying she'd seen a man performing CPR on a child at the entrance to our drop off line. Speculation and rumors abounded. No one knew if it was a walker who'd been hit by a car or a parent whose child had a medical emergency in their car. As the day went on, it all became clear. The rumors I'd heard had the wrong first name for the ill student and I thought I wasn't going to know her. That was not to be the case.

When all had settled down, we were told that a 2nd grader had choked on the top to a water bottle in her father's car. She was eating breakfast in the car and drinking orange juice her father had poured into an empty water bottle, and had been talking and singing along with the radio, as usual. When they got to the beginning of the drop off line, he looked back to make sure she was ready to get out and discovered she was blue and non-responsive. He immediately pulled over and tried to revive her. Someone called 911. The paramedics arrived and were able to clear her airway and get her heart started again. She was flown to our nearest pediatric trauma center. We were simply told, "Things didn't look good." We left school Tuesday with the knowledge that she had no brain activity but still hoping for a miracle.

Reality hit when we arrived back at school Wednesday morning to be greeted with the news that she hadn't survived the night. He parents were able to make the brave decision to donate her organs and we've been told that five other children, ages 1-14, received a blessing from this sweet little girl.

I didn't teach this little one. Her kindergarten year was spent in a room across the hall from me. However, almost all the teachers knew her. She was a bubbly, spunky little thing. Her dark eyes sparkled constantly and she charmed all she met. She had a gift for fitting in with everyone. She liked to be in charge and knew how things should be done the right way (meaning her way, of course).

It's so hard to believe she's gone. It's even harder to believe why she's gone. I'm forever telling kids to take things out of their mouths. It's just what grown ups are supposed to do. I just can't comprehend that her family got up Tuesday morning and their day started out as usual and then things went so horribly wrong, all because of a top to a water bottle.

Visitation at the funeral home was this afternoon. Her funeral is tomorrow. I didn't make plans with any other teachers but went to the funeral home when our school day was over. I ended up going in with a group of about 15 others from our school. There we were - teachers, custodians, cafeteria workers, guidance counselor, substitute teachers, and assistant principal- a widely varied group of individuals all there to say goodbye to a little soul who touched us all. The sight of that tiny casket was hard to take. The sight of her little body so still in it was even harder to take. She was so active and vibrant in life, it seemed impossible to process that she was gone. It's even harder to process that we lost this young lady because of such a common, everyday item - a top to a water bottle, for goodness sakes!

So, hug your kiddos extra close today and be thankful they are still around. I know we have a family here in town that would love to have that chance. Truth is, we never know when or how we are going to leave this world. I do know that our school will be a little quieter and even a little lonely when we get back after fall break. We'll still have 500+ kids but we'll be missing the big presence of one tiny little girl.

4 comments:

Kimmah said...

this is haunting me. I was talking about it with the assistant principal and receptionist at work yesterday (it is so hard for me NOT to use names) and we all kept coming back to the nightmare her father must be living--looking at your child choking, knowing he or she is SEEING you and you're able to do nothing.

Naturally it brought back all of the emotions tied to J's drowning, too. I'm able to discuss it matter-of-factly now and stress the importance of knowing CPR and Heimlich to anyone who will listen, my gut reaction when you told me that she had died was to envision that horrific look on J's face when his lips were blue and his eyes were rolled back in his head, torso stiff as a board and jaw in a death-clinch. Once again I am endlessly thankful that we were so lucky that day. Ashley is truly my hero and J.'s angel. I'm crying now, thinking about it. It happens SO DAMN FAST--I don't think anyone can really grasp that until they see it firsthand.

Wishing I could hug my kiddos right now.

The break will help the healing at school, but it will be a long time before you can drive by that spot and not feel it in your bones. I can only now drive down the hill where the Hawkins' wreck was and not think about it.

(((SHES)))

Jane said...

Yes, I had some flashbacks myself on that one. J's blue face is forever etched in my soul.

I have to admit seeing that little girl in the casket is burned into my memory, too. It was so surreal. I, too, feel for the dad who is going to have to live with the fact that his daughter died within an arm's reach of him. It wasn't his fault - it was truly a freak accident but I'm sure there's no comforting him right now.

Tudu said...

That is so awful! I was thinking about the father myself. I had Emma choke in the car twice when she was little. Once with a Nutter Butter and once on her own vomit. I watch my kids like hawks in my mirror and even added a big one to see the ones in the back. That poor man will never forgive himself even though he is not at all at fault, it could be any one of us parents.

Mongoose said...

Wow, how traumatic. I'm so sorry.