Educators. Students. Community members. Much more unites us than divides us, particularly knowing we all wear multiple hats. Building relationships. Thinking BIG.
Challenging and supporting one another. Developing engaged, empathetic citizens. Please join me in pondering how best to nurture these common ground connections.


Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Grab A Tissue...This One Is Sad

Typically, I read this journal reflection aloud to my students during the week of September 24th each school year. However, I am refraining from doing so this year in light of the loss we've felt in our school community. In all honesty, it would be too difficult for me to get through this year. However, I have had students request that I answer one of the reflection questions I asked them, "What was a difficult time in your life and how did you handle it?" The following is my response to that question. One of the most difficult experiences of my life was the sudden loss of a close friend; he passed away from cardiac arrest.

Forty-five years ago on September 28, 1967, a baby boy by the name of Daniel Eric Welsh was born to Kay and James. The fifth of five children. Dan and I eventually became very close friends, like brother and sister. We went to Blessed Sacrament Grade School, Morton High School, and the University of Illinois together. Our schedules were always identical, hour by hour, through grade 12. The only difference that occurred in high school was our language class—when I went to German, Dan went to Spanish. Then during our last year of college, I decided to go into teaching and he applied to medical schools. We both graduated. I began my teaching career and fell in love with it. He went to Rush University for medical school and also had found his calling. We, of course, kept in touch. Twenty years ago on September 24, 1992, four days before his 25th birthday, my dear friend died.


I’m sharing this story with you because I still have a hard time with the fact that he is no longer around, even after twenty years. One action that has provided me with some comfort is to share his life with my students. Why? I’ll explain.


Dan was the type of person who did everything 100%, otherwise he wouldn’t do it at all. When he studied, he studied 100%. No matter what gadgets or distractions we created at the library, he would not stop focusing on his studies. When he slept, he slept 100%. We actually had to break the door down one day to wake him up to go to Physics. Pounding on it wasn’t doing the trick! And when he had fun, he had fun 100%...well, you get the idea.


Saying that Dan was focused doesn’t seem to describe him thoroughly enough. When we were in grade school, we were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. We actually recorded our responses, and I still have a copy of our class’s responses in my keepsake box. He said, without hesitation, “a doctor.” He was lucky this way. He knew what he wanted to be for a very long time. And throughout his life, his family experiences gave him the motivation to make his dream come true. His focus started at a very young age and never faltered. He was the type of person who wouldn’t miss class in college because he felt that something he learned that day might end up saving the life of one of his patients in the future. He was intense.


I’ve always had a very difficult time during this week of the year, ever since I lost Dan. When it first happened, I remember feeling so weak in the knees, to the point where standing up was an effort. My younger brother, Bill, was worried about me, because he knew how close Dan and I were. Bill had also lost a friend of his, Matt, 2 years prior to Dan’s death. Bill came into my room one day to give me a reassuring hug. I looked at him and asked, “When did you stop crying? When will I stop crying?” He said—and let me remind you that this is my younger brother, but at this moment he seemed so wise—he said, “Joan, it seems like holding onto the pain is the only way to stay close to Dan, doesn’t it? Well, I don’t know how or why, but one day I was thinking of Matt, and I laughed. I laughed out loud. And it felt great. And one day that will happen to you; you’ll think of Dan and smile. You just have to be patient. Just don’t think that the pain of his loss is the only way to stay close to him.” I  knew he was right, but had trouble with this for years. But, about 10 summers ago it happened. I was thinking about Dan, about how in second grade he glued a Kleenex on his eraser and started flying it around the classroom calling it a “Super Eraser”, and I smiled...then I laughed out loud. Bill was right. It did feel good to let the happiness through.


So why share such a painful story? Because if Dan's life can in any way inspire you for one moment in your life to grasp everything that occasion has to offer, if this story can inspire you to make your next words and actions be a positive influence on the people around you, then this story will have made a difference. You have no idea to what extent you are impacting another person’s life. Who knew that I would ever remember “Super Eraser” and that that memory would in some way help me grow as an individual twenty-seven years later? Your words and actions make a difference for you and for others. Speak carefully, listen wholeheartedly, and live positively...


Every experience, no matter how painful, provides opportunity for growth. Dan’s life and death have influenced my teaching in a profound way. And I will be forever grateful to my friend for playing his part in helping me to become the teacher I am.

12 comments:

S. Bolos said...

Thanks for sharing this. For me, the hurt has faded but the happy memories are sharper than ever, thanks to you.

Meg said...

Thanks for sharing this Joan. I stumbled across it when Aunt Kathy reposted. A good reminder for me of who Uncle Dan really was...and how I still hope to live, work, and treat people the same way he did.

Chris Kelly said...

Thanks for posting this Joan. He and I hadn't talked in years when I found out that he had passed. Dan was my ABSOLUTE best friend growing up in Morton. I was numb when I found out what had happened. Amazingly, the picture you posted is the only picture that I have seen of him in his "adulthood." He still looks like Dan.
So many years have gone by yet I still think about him and the fun we had together.

esvoboda said...

Thanks for this. There is rarely a week that goes by that I don't think about Dan, even if for a few seconds. We spent so much time together through 11 years (the formative ones) of our lives - It's not an exaggeration to say that he's part of what makes me, me. I think it goes without saying that the World is a lesser place for his not being here - while this is often said of those who are taken so young - Dan TRULY had so much to offer. Joan - I can attest to the focus you describe. Even as kid, he understood how he could magnify his talent through hard work. Since I'm among friends, here, I'll confide that I'm not a spiritual person in the conventional sense ☺ But, every once in a while, I have dreams in which I have a chance to talk with him again... and they are so real. I relish these dreams! I loved that boy and that man and I'll never, ever forget him.

Anonymous said...

Thanks so much for posting this. Dan was such a good friend and someone who I trusted. He has always been my guardian angel. When we were at the U of I together, I had the uncanny knack of running into him going to exams that were make it or break it for me. I would freak out on him telling how I was going to fail. My lack of sleep and caffeine would have made anyone else I knew run. Not Dan. He was always so reassuring and you know what, I never did fail. Since, I have had a few medical scares. Each time, I have tried to remain positive, remembering Dan. I am lucky, I have had many second chances. Dan did not. I will never understand why Dan was taken so soon. He had so much to offer this world and just too little time. I now too can think about Dan and all the happy and funny times we shared and feel blessed I knew him.

-Kate Markland Nelson

Morgan's Blogfolio said...

I'm very sorry to hear about your loss Mrs. Gallagher. When my grandma died I was very upset and my mom gave me the same advice your younger brother gave you. She reminded me to remember the good memories instead of focusing on the point that my grandma was gone. It's sad to think how a tragic event, such as someone close to you dying, makes you truly appreciate life and everyday.

Jonah's blogfolio said...

I'm sorry to hear about your loss. I know what it feels like to lose someone close to you. I'm going to blog about this same topic.

Anonymous said...

I'm sorry to hear about your loss. Thank you for sharing with us. I think talking about it does make it better at least more than keeping it inside.

Amanda's Blogfolio said...

I'm so sorry for your loss Mrs. Gallagher, but thank you for sharing this with all of us. It must take a lot of courage and strength to put such intense feelings and memories into words. GBN has suffered a great loss this summer, but you are living proof that maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually we will look back at our memories of those we lost and smile because of the experiences we shared with them in the short time they were here.

Jenna said...

Thank you for sharing this with us Mrs. Gallagher. I'm sorry for your loss. I wouldn't have the courage and strength to write something like this down because the memories of the ones I have lost would be too painful for me to remember. When I lost a close family friend, me and my family were upset for god knows how long. I was young and scared because I didn't experience this intense pain before. I didn't know when it would go away and I wished I forget the person so I wouldn't have to go through all of the pain. But I now realize that I didn't lose that person. She's still with me and watches over me. I hope these words can be of some encouragement to you.

Jenna said...

Thank you for sharing this with us Mrs. Gallagher. I'm sorry for your loss. I wouldn't have the courage and strength to write something like this down because the memories of the ones I have lost would be too painful for me to remember. When I lost a close family friend, me and my family were upset for god knows how long. I was young and scared because I didn't experience this intense pain before. I didn't know when it would go away and I wished I forget the person so I wouldn't have to go through all of the pain. But I now realize that I didn't lose that person. She's still with me and watches over me. I hope these words can be of some encouragement to you.

Anonymous said...

Mrs. Gallagher,

You told us this story in class years ago when I was your student. Since then it's always stuck with me, and I think about it often, incorporating the lessons into my life regularly. Thank you so much for sharing back then, and now, and allowing it to positively impact others such as myself.