No day but today

The month of January is filled with reminders of challenging times for me. Tonight, as I sat on my couch watching Rent, I was reminded of the people I carry in my heart. I was reminded of the people from whom I’ve been parted in the past. In December, I observed the fifth anniversary of the death of my best friend’s little brother. Oh goodness, he was amazing. He was a ball of creativity, of innovation, of life. It is no easier to bear the burden of his death now than it was five years ago. I see him in little things every day, and I wonder how he would approach every challenge I face. And I pray that I do his memory justice.

In just a few days, we will observe the ninth anniversary of the passing of Susan Bank. I cannot believe it has been almost a decade since the death of my tenth grade English teacher. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of her and the myriad things I learned from her. It is amazing how one person can touch your life so profoundly. I would not be the person I am today had I not been one of her students. And while I learned so much from her classes, it was her life that truly taught me. The last time I saw her, I could tell she was weak. But she had nothing but words of encouragement for me and those she encountered that day. Only a few short weeks later, she succumbed to the cancer that ravaged her body. I remember sitting slumped against a wall at Auburn University after performing at a show choir competition and getting the news. It broke my heart, and it still does so today. I can only hope that I have lived up to the standard she set for her students.

And in less than a month, we will remember Emmie Cecelia Mears Webb. She was just a child. A little girl. Her time was cut so very short four years ago. I had just, a day before, made a huge decision that would change the entire course of my life. How strange it was to know she would never have the opportunity to make such a decision. And how guilty I felt about that. As we entered into Advent, we found ourselves giving up far too much. On the evening of Ash Wednesday, when Emmie died, the ashes on our foreheads were too heavy to bear. It was a time of conflicting emotions, but like the season of Lent, it was a time we spent in darkness before encountering the light of the Holy in Easter.

I hold Derek, Ms. Bank, and Emmie with me always. I spend time remembering how important their lives were to me and how greatly their deaths impacted the person I am today. I by no means desire to be morbid in my remembrance. And while I have shed so many tears on their behalf, as I am doing as I write this, I also hold dear the things their lives taught me. I laugh at the joy they brought to my life. I think of how Derek brought out the best in everyone he met. Of how Ms. Bank taught me to believe in my own potential. Of how Emmie showed me to love the simple joys in life. And yes, the tears do flow so freely when I think of them, but the memories I cling to are only happy, only joyful.

So while this time of year is rife with hard memories of the passing of some indescribably wonderful people, I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to be a part of their lives while they walked this earth. And as I end Rent in an inevitable puddle of my own tears, I am thankful for the oft-repeated lyrics of “Finale B”:

There’s only us // There’s only this // Forget, regret or // Life is yours to miss // No other road, no other way // No day but today

No day but today, indeed.