Rest In Peace Isaac

We usually reserve our blog for cheerful updates about James, but since the title of this blog is "Duffy Family News", I feel I must post about a very sad event that impacted our family this past week. For the past two years I have taught 7th grade in a fairly tough neighborhood on the North Side, a mainly Hispanic area a few blocks from the Fort Worth Stockyards. Although trying at times, it has been an incredible learning experience for me and I have become very attached to my students. I learned last Monday that one of my students from this past year took his own life on Monday July 14, 2008. He was just 13 years old.

Words simply do not exist to describe how difficult it has been for his community and for me to deal with this tragic loss. Isaac was a funny, popular, smart and good-looking kid who seemed to have so much going for him. To understand that his life was simply too much for him to bear for one second longer brings an unsettling coldness and fear to my core. What are these kids dealing with today? How many of them are hiding behind a mask? To say I was shocked and in disbelief is the understatement of my life.

It became more real at the wake on Friday where I spent two hours with a couple of other teachers talking with and consoling the hundred and fifty students or so that showed up to pay their respects. I must admit I think they offered me more comfort than I did them. Most of what I remember about the wake can be summed up this way: hugging student after student close, tears flowing, repeating the same mantra over and over "I am so sorry, I am so sorry". I have ran the gamut of emotions, including anger, guilt, sadness, all of them brimming with the nostalgia of the sweet memories of this child. This child who walked into class chewing gum (against the rules) but with such a warm smile and polite greeting that I didn't so much care about the gum. This child who was girl-crazy and concerned constantly if his hair looked right. This child who had a gift for mathematics and motivated even the most challenging students to excel. This child, strutting with pride and machismo, often getting into school yard fights against his better judgment. This child who looked at me with wide eyes and questioned me with "Miss, are you SERIOOOOOUUUSSS?" any time I tried to surprise the class with some tidbit of trivia. This child who would, now, never drive a car, go to prom, toss his graduation cap into the air, get married, watch his children be born.

After crying into Daniel's shoulder and breaking down where I could finally let it all out, I tiptoed into James' room and just stared at him sleeping peacefully. The greatest gift of my life. My son. My little boy. A person who will grow up and go into this big scary world. I stood there and silently willed him to come to me in the future when life is hard. I prayed fervently to the Lord for Isaac's soul and for protection of my own child and all that waits for him out there. I prayed for Isaac's many friends and his four siblings. Mostly I prayed for Isaac's parents and for relief from the numbing devastation facing them. Then I took James out of his crib and rocked him in the darkness, burrowing my head into his shoulder, smelling his sweet smell, thinking about how once Isaac was this tiny and this untouched by pain.

We will miss you Isaac. There will never be another you and the world will miss out on all you were and all you were busy becoming. RIP sweet child.