Six and the loss of a cousin

Six is the oldest of three children, and it was my pleasure to teach two of them before they moved away. I actually knew her family because one set of her aunts and uncles lived next door to me when I lived in the city in which I taught.

Six was, and still is, a joy. She was the child that got all the students to sign a card at the end of the year telling me how much they loved the class, she was the one who wrote a song for a project and performed it and, with her mother’s permission, allowed me to share it publicly. She ‘promised me’ that when she became a famous singer she was going to fly me to Paris for one of her shows. And I believe her. I adore Six. She brings a lightness to my soul.

Which is why I was not surprised to get a call from her mother. Until I heard what she had to say. She wanted me to come to the aunt and uncles house, where they were currently staying, and help her break the news that their cousin had killed himself the night before.

I was speechless. I’ve been asked to do a lot of things over the years but this was one I had no experience with. But I thought about Six and her siblings and her mother trying to find a way to make telling them less awful. So I said yes and agreed to meet her the next day.

The children were surprised but pleased to see me and I felt my stomach drop. Would they always associate me with this news? Would they hate me for showing up and bringing bad news with me? When their mother said she had something to tell them they went from confused to being speechless and in shock. They cried and we alternated hugging them and trying to soothe them as best we could. I’ve never been so impressed by a family as I was by Six’s mother and her children that day. Nobody turned away from the family, or me for that matter, and shut themself off, nobody acted like they were the only one in pain, and nobody treated their sibling as anything but an extension of themself.

Sometimes I’m lucky enough to see true strength and the power that comes from raising a tight knit family but that day is one I’ll never forget. By the time I left everyone was sad and wasn’t sure what the next week would look like and how their lives would change, but they were on an even keel.

I will never get used to seeing the kind of pain that comes from losing a member of your family, but Six and her siblings and mother and aunt and uncle were, and are, an exceptional example of how much easier it is to bear the weight of something when you’re not alone.

Thank you Six.