Hello dear readers,

Last week, I attended the funeral of a student.

I never thought I’d have to write that sentence into existence, but here we are.

She was fifteen years old. I taught her two years ago. She was bright eyed, intelligent, sensitive, empathetic, and beautiful - all the attributes you hope your offspring would develop as they mature. Her laughter was infectious. She loved being involved in any school activity you could think of, and I never forgot about her after she moved on to high school.

She battled sickle cell disease her entire life - I remember that she had a 504 on file to document and inform her teachers of her illness - but she never let it hold her back from living her life. She entered high school guns ablazing; she joined the choir and colorguard and was in the midst of her sophomore year, thriving and enjoying her days…until she finally succumbed to her illness on October 5th.

The service was scheduled on October 14th and my principal allowed us to use professional leave if we wanted to attend. Lisa and I both taught her, so we asked if we could go. The leave was granted. I had to struggle not to cry when I told my students why I was going to be absent; that I hoped my reason was valid enough for them to behave while I was out. Her family requested that anyone attending the funeral wear pink, in honor of their daughter’s infectious joy and adoration of the color. I was relieved I didn’t have to wear dour black to pay my respects; it just wouldn’t seem right to wear the hue to a child’s funeral.

Lisa and I sat with the rest of the staff members, including one of my other good friends, Rodrigo, in solidarity at the funeral. The tears were endless, especially when eulogies were made and when the high school chorus she belonged to performed in her honor. It was so heartbreaking to see the chorus students, who were seated in front of us, weep as they remembered the legacy of their friend…someone that they started to share their journeys into young adulthood with.

Her pastor ended the service with the reminder that while she lived such a short life, she lived it to the fullest extent, and that we, especially the adults, who have had an opportunity to truly live, shouldn’t take that for granted.

With those final words, Lisa and I shared a teary hug in the parking lot, and then we drove home.

I have spent the days since the funeral with the pastor’s sermon replaying in my mind.

Have I taken my life for granted?

My sweetest Googie Girl!
-Round Rock, Texas, July 2025

Just last fall, I was close to wanting to end my life. The school year had been miserable, I found no joy in my job, and the one thing I have truly wanted, to fall in love and start a life with someone who wants to love and protect me, had not manifested. I pushed through the year, much to my relief, and spent my summer with my friends, earning extra money, and traveling to Texas so I could finally meet my beloved niece, Gabrielle. I returned home at the beginning of August, recharged and ready to start this current school term. I remember praying and hoping that this year would be so much better…that my students would be so much better…

And much to my relief, with the exception of my student’s funeral, this year has been fabulous. I love my students! They are so polite and kind (for the most part; there are always a few that struggle with behavior) and they make me giggle. We have a great time learning and having fun while learning. This year truly started off wonderfully, despite all the new technology that was thrown at us the first week at school (here’s looking at you, iPads and Newline SMART Boards). I find myself more frustrated with the way the school is run by administration rather than the behavior of the students…and I’ll take that any time, since I interact with my students more than the adults in charge. I know it’s still early days (we haven’t completed the first quarter yet), but my students have already shown their true personalities, and I believe it’s going to be an amazing and fruitful year. I’ve also continued working on curriculum development, and I was invited to be a part of an inquiry design model cohort with other Social Studies teachers in the county. In fact, our first in person meeting will be on my birthday. I’m looking forward to a day of professional development, a catered lunch, and the ability to go to the bathroom whenever I want on my special day.

Really, my only struggle has been trying to come to terms with the fact that I still carry my ex in my heart, even if he has moved on. I know he’s in love with someone else, and I know I never meant anything to him. This doesn’t mean my feelings for him aren’t valid. I miss him and his daughter every single day, but I also remind myself, especially when I’m at church in deep prayer, that the Lord is protecting me from him hurting me more than he already has. He will never realize the sorrow that he put me through the moment we met. He will never own the mistakes he has made. He will never apologize for breaking my heart so long ago when he knew that I felt so strongly about him…and that’s okay. All this realization is my closure. What I find unfair is that he gets to move on and be happy with someone lovelier than I could ever hope to be, while I am here, as unremarkable as ever, praying every day that I will get to share my life, my hopes, my dreams, and my faith with someone who does find me remarkable and, dare I say, even extraordinary.

But then, I think of my student. How she probably wished she could’ve come as far as I have in my life. I’m sure she hoped she could’ve gone to college, earned a degree, and eventually, found a job in something she was passionate about…just like me. I’m sure she wanted her own little home…a corner of the world where she could be safe, with or without a man to share it with her. God’s plan, as bittersweet as it is, was for her to be comforted in His arms and brought into the kingdom of heaven at such an early age so she wouldn’t suffer on earth anymore.

Right now God’s plan for me is to continue my life the way I have for almost thirty-four years…with all of my loved ones, my friends whom I consider family, and my darling cats, by my side. God’s plan is for me to be safe from the selfish, cruel, hurtful and cold heart of my ex, and not constantly wondering if he’s with other women, like I did when we were dating. God‘s plan is for me to be at peace, and to enjoy the blessings and opportunities I have been granted…with or without a husband at my side. There is nothing wrong with that plan, for it is from God and that makes it perfect.

I was listening to The Avett Brothers for comfort during my drive to the funeral. Their lyrics of love, life, faith, and death have always given me strength in dark times, and that was no exception that day. I listened to the title track off The Carpenter album, the inspiration for today’s title post, and the rest of the song summed up the way I felt as I prepared myself to say my goodbyes to my student:

Forever I will move
Like the world that turns beneath me
And when I lose my direction
I'll look up to the sky
And when the black cloak drags upon the ground
I'll be ready to surrender
And remember we're all in this together
If I live the life I'm given I won't be scared to die

We’re all going to leave this earth one day. Just because I haven’t gotten what I want in my life, or because I’m angry my ex gets to be with someone and I’m lonely…that doesn’t mean his life has more meaning than mine. That doesn’t mean he gets to outlive me because he is happy right now and I’m not. We’re both going to die, whether it be sooner or later, and it’s up to myself to embrace what I have been given now as my life. Whomever I have as a husband to share my life with, or if I remain single, will not change the outcome of my inevitable death.

My student lived the life she was given to the fullest every moment she was alive. I sat there, listening to her father’s eulogy; my heart breaking as he told us that she was ready to die peacefully…that she was ready to move on to heaven, because she had done everything she could on earth to live for fifteen years.

It’s time for me to do the same and keep living, to the best of my abilities, in honor of my student and all of my loved ones who have gone before me.

Pray for my student. Pray for her family and friends that are cherishing her name as they come to terms with their loss. Pray that she truly is at peace and free of pain. Pray that her brief, but beautiful impact on this earth, is always remembered.

Pray that you have the strength to live your life as she did…I know I am.

many happy returns,
-kate.

P.S. The aforementioned song is on one of my self-created Spotify playlists; I’ve embedded it here for your convenience:

Dear Grandma,

It has been ten years to this day since I lost you. That this family lost you. There has not been a day that I don’t think of you over these past ten years; that you’re not a part of my daily thoughts. As my life goes on, I will only continue to think of you.

I still vividly remember the day I found out you had passed. I had just started my first semester of grad school, I was working two jobs to pay my tuition, desperate to not take out any student loans. I was also trying to pocket some extra money to visit you in Laredo during Spring Break. I was exhausted and the school term had just started.

I went to work at Wegmans that day, a 5 AM shift in the bakery, and was hopeful that when I got home, after a relaxing shower, would be able rest for a little while before tackling some assigned reading for class. I was home by 2 PM…only to find my mamá’s car in the driveway when I arrived at the house. That was an unusual sight.

My mamá, who was not yet retired, was home early from work. She was never home early when she was teaching. She never took days off. Her school day ended at 4:15!

I had an inkling as to why she was already home. I knew you had been sick. I knew you hadn’t been doing well. I didn’t think your illness would last long; that you would be fine, you would bounce back, and we would visit you in Laredo eventually. My inkling was proven correct when I walked out onto the deck. My parents were seated there; my mamá’s eyes bloodshot, her face fallen and ashen, and that’s when I knew. She didn’t have to say a word as I wrapped her in a hug, letting her blouse absorb my own wave of tears.

I knew you were gone.

We flew to Laredo to say our goodbyes. All your children and grandchildren were there for one final moment with you, our matriarch…the tender heart of the family. You had a beautiful Catholic funeral mass and were buried, as promised, right beside grandpa. “Together Forever,” as it always said on your shared tombstone.

I think of the way that you loved. The way you showed love in this world. I knew you never had much financially. Mamá always said how the family struggled with money when she was growing up. You and grandpa worked hard to put a roof over the heads of your children, to feed them, and to put them through college if they wished…because you valued education so much. There wasn’t, however, room for little luxuries. But having money and material things didn’t matter. All the love you showed your children…the love you showed me…in my twenty two years of knowing you…

I never needed you to buy me anything fancy to prove you loved me. All I ever needed from you was your smile, your laughter, and your ability to turn my worst day into the best. All I needed was your perfect Mexican cooking, and your amazing flour tortillas - you should know that mamá has mastered the recipe now. All I needed was a hearty bowl of your caldo de pollo to feel better during a bad cold…I’ve learned to make it myself so I can be reminded of you in every way possible.

You were like St. Thérèse of Lisieux, the “Little Flower,” showing love in your own “little way” every single day you lived. It was because of you that I learned how to love with all my heart; how to show love, how to give love…how to be kind to others, even if they aren’t so kind to me. And I’m not saying I’m perfect, but even mamá tells me that while I have a giving heart, sometimes I show too much love to the people I want to be loved by in return. When I realize that they don’t love me (especially when it comes to romantic pursuits), my heart, then, is the one that is broken, and that heartbreak is magnified due to the effort I put in trying to prove that I was worthy of someone’s love.

How I wish I had a love right now like you and grandpa did. How I wish I could find that someone that I could be “together forever” with like you and grandpa are now in heaven. And I’ve tried, grandma. I’ve tried being like you and showing my love through my own “little way.” By being thoughtful, by always looking out for the other person, by knowing them, by learning them. I know that you would have wanted me to find the right person to live this life with, but unfortunately, as you can probably see while you watch over me, this has not happened. There are days where I doubt my kindnesses, there are days where I ask myself…why even bother trying to prove I have a kind heart? Why try, over and over again, showing up for someone I want to be loved by…when I haven’t had someone, ever, try to show up for me?

Today's temporary Facebook profile picture

But then I remember all the sacrifices you’ve made, and I know in the end, that all you want for me is to be happy. There doesn’t have to be another person in my life to make me happy, as long as I take care of myself, as long as I am safe and loved…I know that is truly what you want for me. Thank you for showing me how to love. Thank you for reminding me that it is better to give love than to be nasty, cold, and bitter. Thank you for teaching me how to be kind. Thank you for encouraging me every day to give my best to my students and teach them how important it is to learn. Mamá always said how you wanted to continue your education, but you couldn’t because you had to help out at home after you graduated high school. You, however, didn’t let your inability to go to college make you jealous or resentful of others who could. You let your own children choose their path in this life, you promised them a college career, and in the end, your two daughters became teachers. My brother, your grandson, became a middle school band director. He doesn’t do it anymore, but he enjoyed it while he could before COVID destroyed his passion…

…And me, still teaching American history to a bunch of chatty, hormonal seventh graders. As challenging as it’s been with COVID these past few years, grandma…as much as I’ve doubted myself and my future as a teacher, it’s because of you that I keep going. I want to give my students all the appreciation you had for education and learning. I’ve had my rough years; it has been a difficult time, but in the end, you motivate me to not give up on these kids…to help them learn what it is to listen, learn, to want to gain an education, and that there is more to life than video games, sports, and being an influencer. The important factor for them to have a successful start in life is a solid school career…and a teacher who wants to actually teach them.

September 19th is the hardest day of the year for me. It will always be the hardest day of my year. Today, I completed the same routine I always do when September 19th arrives. I kept to myself, I thought of you, I dedicated my daily rosary to you, I changed my Facebook profile picture to my favorite one of us for the day, and I got ice cream in honor of you and how you were always willing to treat your grandchildren to a cone or milkshake. After school, I made a Target run, and then went to Five Guys and ordered a milkshake - this is the only place where it is acceptable to add bacon to your ice cream. I happily sipped my milkshake on my drive home as I streamed a Beatles playlist on Spotify, because you loved their songs so much. All my moments today were intentionally for you.

But please remember that every day, you’re in my mind. Every day, I pray for you. Every day, I look at those four words tattooed on my forearm; those four words you’d call out to me as I waved goodbye to you from the car at the end of every visit:

Que le vaya bien.

That all will be well.

And I know that all is well for you right now in heaven; I’m so relieved to know you’re at rest and in eternal paradise. I know that you are making sure that all is still well for me...my God sent guardian angel, protecting and watching over me on this earth. You have always been my guardian angel; I knew I was safe with you in your care when you were alive. God blessed me by giving someone so kind and sweet as you to be my grandmother. He knew what he was doing by giving you to guide me in this life. No matter how old I get, I could never forget you and all the ways you showed me how to love unconditionally, without anything expected in return - as difficult as that can be sometimes.

I’m glad you’re not suffering anymore. I can clearly envision you right now on some comfortable cloud in the sky, eating all the ice cream in the world, laughing and smiling beautifully, with grandpa at your side. Please say hi to him for me.

All will be well, thanks to you.

Love always,

Kate

the once and future carpenter.

que le vaya bien.