with continued gratitude

I didn't know Chris well. He was just enough older than me to be in the illusive, "cool" category reserved for my brother and his friends. He always seemed quiet, yet sincere and, as a kid, I saw him as a bit of a rockstar with long hair and kind eyes.

A few years ago I had an opportunity to get to know Chris a little bit better. I was on my way home to have dinner with my parents and I stopped at a small liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine. The store is the tiny, townie type, the size of a living room, and I walked in without even noticing who was at the register. Walking in shortly after me was a middle aged man, rough around the edges, who immediately began to trail me around the store. He followed closely, making inappropriate comments. I was flustered. Nervous. I asked him to leave me alone and he persisted, until, a strong voice came from behind the counter a few isles away- "LEAVE HER ALONE." It wasn't an angry voice, but it was full of authority. The man hassled, "c'mon man, just havin' some fun," as if to invite the clerk's participation. The man behind the counter firmly responded "leave her alone or get out of my store." There was a moment wherein the two men held eye contact as if to face off. Then, the rough man muttered to himself and stormed out. I looked up to see Chris Hanrahan behind the counter. Shaken, I thanked him and he shook it off as if it was nothing. I felt like he had saved me from something really scary, yet Chris made me feel anything but indebted. Instead, since that evening, I have always merely felt gratitude anytime I saw Chris. In church I would ask him how he was and he would respond warmly but without pretense. He never seemed to think himself a hero. He was just willing to do the right thing.
This is a story I hold tightly too. It is a reminder to me of how community- the relationships you would least expect- are those that can keep you standing. It is a reminder that I know so little of what those around me are capable of, what strength they possess. As a kid I saw Chris as a rockstar with kind eyes. As an adult I grew to respect his quiet strength and indomitable courage. I am so sorry that we have lost such a man, and I hope he knew that he was deeply loved and admired. 

Christopher Michael Hanrahan

December 10, 1982-September 25, 2013
Bozrah - Christopher Michael Hanrahan, 30, of Old Salem Road passed away Wednesday morning unexpectedly. He was born December 10, 1982 in Long Beach, CA son to Terry and Rosemary (Barry) Hanrahan of Bozrah. Christopher was an avid sports fan who loved the Oakland A's and San Francisco 49ers. He was an established guitar player who loved music. Besides his parents he is survived by his brother Matthew Hanrahan of Franklin, a sister Patricia Ann Milne of Ledyard, his grandfather Lawrence Hanrahan of Norwich, his grandmother Francis Barry of Norwich, his three nephews that he adored Joshua, Timmy, and Alex, and also survived by his longtime girlfriend Lynn Yerring, and numerous aunts and uncles. In lieu of flowers donations can be made in Christopher's memory to Fitchville Baptist Church 1 Bozrah Street Ext. Bozrah, CT 06334 Calling hours will be held 10:30 A.M.-12:00 P.M. Tuesday morning at Fitchville Baptist Church, Bozrah, CT with a Memorial Service to follow at 12:00 P.M. Interment will follow in St. Joseph Cemetery, Norwich. For online condolences go to www.gagnepiechowski.com

suddenly goodbye

A woman I worked with on a near-daily basis died suddenly last week. She was often the first person I spoke to when something happened I didn't know how to deal with- when a staff member abruptly quit, when I was confronted with a child abuse situation among my students, when I failed to know how to properly process payroll.

When I found out last weekend I sat in shock, and I've been so sad about it this week. Leaving the wake last night I couldn't help but burst into tears. I had already bumbled my way through talking with her children, and avoided teary eye contact with all the co-workers present. They were all talking about work. Shouldn't we be talking about her?

Jake took me to the animal shelter to cheer me up. It helped. Dinner at Five Guys helped too. Still, the whole thing felt off. It didn't feel good enough.

No matter how many times we're confronted with loss, we never learn how to confront it, do we?

my proudest moment

Some kids have it rough. As if trudging through adolescence isn't enough of a struggle, one of my students lost his father in the past year. A handful of years prior, he lost his brother. And last week he was in the hospital himself. My heart breaks for this kid. He is a good kid and I can't help but admire his courage and tenacity already.

And my other students- how they have surrounded him with support and encouragement- they have made me proud in a whole new way. This weekend we put up two shows. One was Midsummer Night's Dream, and the other was a show we wrote with a group of teens a year and a half ago. This student who was in the hospital this week was suppose to be playing the lead in Midsummer and telling his own story in the new show. His absence was persistently obvious and deeply felt.

In the new show there is a scene where all the teens sit on stools and share moments of experiencing loss- from losing a pet hamster, to the loss of not playing childhood games anymore. My absent student had written about his last interaction with his brother. On Saturday, without warning, my students included this reflection in the scene. Before the final monologue, they each recited a line of the absent student's story, and said the final line in unison. It was the most beautiful, reverent show of love I have ever witnessed on stage. Out of a unified desire to honor the absent student, they shared a vulnerable part of his personal story, and they did so respectfully and creatively.

I have never felt so utterly proud.

joy kills sorrow

On particularly difficult days, I tend to focus on simple things. Things like how dry my hands are and how I really like this scarf. I shamelessly pick cookie dough pieces out of the ice-cream and spend too much time editing photos. I focus on things that don't really matter. Not to say I'm anti-fashion or downing the importance of ice-cream. Believe you me, I am a staunch proponent of wearing quality things and eating tasty things too. But, it hurts to think about what matters. Its achey and tiring to acknowledge loss. Its infuriating to wrestle with injustice. Life can be weary-making.

I had a weary-making weekend. We got painful family news, on both sides of our little family, and I found myself tearing up during the football game. I have no interest in football. For me, watching a game is like watching blurs on a screen for a couple hours- I just don't follow it, especially with weariness behind my eyes. Yet, it may have seemed that I was particularly moved by the Patriots victory last night. Tears in my eyes, wine glass in hand, I sat on my husband's lap as cheers erupted around me. 

And it was good. It was simple and safe and easy. Sometimes it is better to let things settle in before you acknowledge them fully. More often, it just takes time for the acknowledgment to really happen. My gosh, I feel as if we're just really coming around to Jake's MS diagnosis and that happened two years ago.