Third Grade : Refelections and Moving Forward

Just the other night, while searching under my bed for a long lost journal (which I did not find), I came across a bag of pictures. This one was near the top. The first day of third grade. I don't know how I got that picture, or if my mom came to school with me that day. It would be unusual as I rode the bus to school, but nothing that year was normal. Maybe the teacher took it and gave it to my mom. I don't know.

First day of third grade, Conestoga Elementary.

The summer before I started third grade a classmate and friend was killed by a drunk driver. At the time I had said she was my best friend. Looking back, I wonder how many other classmates felt the same way. I do know that we were very close. As I looked at the above photograph I had a flash flood of memories start to sweep me away.

So many little things about Kristine came back to me in that moment. She wasn't in the photograph but her presence was there. Before she died she had gotten a pony tail holder stuck in her hair. Instead of waiting for her mom to untangle it, she got a pair of scissors and cut it out, along with a nice chunk of the back of her hair. In the weeks before she died she gave me two cards while we were at the pool together. I distinctly remember sitting at the edge of the 12 feet. It was an adult swim. She ran over to her towel and back to me with the cards. We sat together, feet dangling in the water. One was a birthday card. This was odd as my birthday is in January. She said she had forgotten my birthday and wanted me to have this card. The second was a card asking if I wanted to get together to make a present for our third grade teacher. We never got the chance. I made one without her and gave it to the teacher, from both of us.

I remember being upset with Kristine the night she died. Our community pool was having a midnight swim. It was the highlight of the summer for us kids. We made our plans to meet there. She never showed up. I couldn't believe my friend would stand me up like that.

The next morning at church, a man from our congregation stood up and asked for prayer. He was an EMT, on the scene of an accident the night before where a 7-year-old girl was killed. She was an only child. He didn't know the first name, but the last name was Trimble. At my age I didn't pay close attention to much during church. I remember my head shooting up at the sound of that name and looking at my mom. With tears in my eyes I silently begged her to reassure me this couldn't be my friend. There is no way MY friend could be dead.

After church my parents drove to Turkey Hill. My dad went inside for a newspaper. He came out, and handed it to my mom. I don't know if I said anything or just stared. Kristine's second grade school photograph was on the front page of the local section. I couldn't believe it. I refused to believe it. We drove home. I have vague memories of my mom convincing me that she believed Kristine had the choice to stay in a broken body on earth or be whole in heaven. I was mad at her. In my selfishness I wanted her here.

Kristine had died two tenths of a mile from her home, and half a mile from the pool. She was wearing her swimsuit under her dress, she was on her way to the pool, to see me for the midnight swim.

After she died her mom came over to my house. She gave me Kristine's bike. I didn't want it. I didn't want to ride her bike. I wanted Kristine to ride her own bike. Her mom wanted me to have it. I imagine it was too hard to see it and know Kristine wouldn't ride it again. I rode that bike until long after I had outgrown it. Outgrowing it would be moving forward, without Kristine.

This year Anne and Abbey start third grade. They are the age that Kristine and I were, 8 and 7, our last summer together as friends. Thinking of how precious my own daughters are to me, I can't even begin to fathom losing one of them in an accident. If I'm not careful I believe the devil could use this memory to fill my heart with fear and worry.

Anne, age 8, first day of 3rd grade

Looking back, third grade for me was certainly not a normal year. That year my mom threw a surprise party for me. I didn't understand at the time why she did it. With a large family we didn't have birthday parties with friends every year. We had them on "special occasion" years - 5, 10, 13, and 16. But that year I turned 9. I got a surprise party at Willow Valley's indoor pool, which was a really big deal for our family. Maybe my mom was thinking her own, "what ifs".

Abbey, age 7, first day of 3rd grade

I don't think about Kristine every day anymore. But I do think of her. I used to visit her grave on a regular basis all through high school. I saw her grandmother there once and she remembered me. I wore a butterfly on my wedding dress for Kristine, for the wedding she would never get to have. And I tell my girls about her. If I could tell Kristine's mom or any mom who has lost a beloved child it would be this : I haven't forgotten her. I think of her. I remember the funny things she did. I wish she were still here. I loved her, too.

Maggie, age 5 (6 next week), first day of pre-1st.

Caroline - 2 1/2 years old - keeping busy this school year!

 And now we move forward.

This article is now 8 years old, but it tells more about Kristine and her family along with Kristine's beautiful picture. Lives Forever Changed

We hope all our friends and family have a great 2016-2017 school year. We pray that you all stay safe and make good choices.

xoxo,
Mama Hess