Dedicated to Joshua Adam Castle. See you later, alligator.
There was a shadow over my desk. The boy looked down at me as he showed me the picture on his phone. He told me that she sleeps on my neck sometimes. I was happy for Grade 8 students. You get them in all their quirkiness because they haven't worked out how to be cool.
Josh shared his photo with me. I carried on with my class work. Josh's essays were always a highlight. He was smart and witty. He loved cats. I felt like I had been hit across the face with a shovel when we were told of his cancer diagnosis, because he became a firm favorite.
I got his mother's details and arranged a visit for the next day. The smell of hand sanitizer makes me return to that corridor. Josh exclaimed jubilantly at some fresh entertainment. I was introduced to everyone by him. I forgot all the names. There was only him. My boy.
The news was gathered in jagged pieces. There is cancer. Something called cholangiocarcinoma. He had it because he was too young to get it. There are four stages to it.
I visited him every few days. He was put into tights to help with the clot. I arrived with my shoes. He wore them for a long time. We would chat about school, what the others were doing, what he thought of the nurses and the hospital food. I would complain about my admin load. He nodded and asked what was worse, a bad timetable or cancer. His humor couldn't take him anywhere.
There was nothing they could have done to save Josh's life. I told him I would visit him on Mars. Mars was found down the road from my apartment.
There were fewer people at his home than there were at the hospital. She said that my family would accuse me of poisoning them, but I looked like someone who ate vegetables on purpose.
I could see where Josh got it all from. Shannon was quick and dry. Chris was warm and gentle. Tea time became dinner more often than not during my visits.
I was looking for an appointment with my psychologist. I asked her how I could begin to process that my child was going to die. I remember her crying. When I was able to make my therapist cry, I thought I'd somehow win therapy. It made me feel better about how much I cried.
I was told I had two choices. I could either distance myself from him or make him pay. I could embrace the time I had left, and jump in, knowing I would break me. I decided on the latter. Maintaining appropriate distance between a teacher and a student was thrown away by me. I saw more of Josh at his home than I did in class, because he insisted on going to school when he felt well enough.
I stopped thinking of his family as connected to the school. They had become friends. I met everyone in the extended family. One day,Penny turned around from the polenta pot on the stove, and asked why I had been hiding from them. I thought it would be rude to bring him when they didn't know him. Chris was invited to dinner that night. Josh looked at the man I had agreed to marry as he sat at the head of the table, growing frailer by the day. Chris held his own when he talked about DC comics. They agreed that DC is superior to Marvel. Chris could stay.
A 14-year-old dying of cancer, his younger brother, and his parents are our unexpected friends as we visit weekly. Yet it worked. We ate dinner. We went to see a movie. When Josh took a turn for the worse,Penny and her sister left the wedding early.
He fought his teeth. The man in the arena was his favorite quote. He was given a few weeks to live. Even though his body grew lighter, he kept fighting.
For his 15th birthday party, he asked for care packages to be given to underprivileged families with children fighting cancer. There were tombstones on his cupcakes. His humor is like I said.
I drove him to meet his family. A person shot a red light and I swore. Imagine if my English teacher was behind the wheel and I died in a car crash. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. I always chose laughter around him and his family.
I wish I could tell you that Josh is going to an Ivy League school and will be 20 next year. Josh died in his mother's arms 354 days after he was diagnosed. I had never known that grief began. It consumed me.
I loved this child so much that he was never mine. My fear came. Josh had instructed everyone to wear a superhero outfit and had chosen his soundtrack, but it was held at bay.
I was worried that his family would stop me from visiting them after the memorial. I was his teacher, even though Josh wasn't there anymore. I told myself that they would want to mourn privately. They pulled me in with them after I hovered at the edge. We leaned on one another during our visits.
Chris and I stayed despite the well-wishers stopping by. People were afraid that talking about Josh would upset his family. All I wanted to do was talk about him. It was messy and loving. Josh's middle name is mentioned in the name of the black cat we adopted. She sleeps on my shoulder instead of on my neck. Josh's birthday was celebrated with sour worms, Nando's and DC movies. It felt strange to not see the Castle clan for a week. It's empty.
The Castles told us they were moving to England. It wasn't mine to make their decision. I have had friends move countries before, but this felt different. It'sVisceral. I had a birthday party with them before they left. There was an envelope with a plane ticket in it. My name was there with my husband. Return flights were indicated between London and where we lived. The back of the class said "you won" instead of "business" or "economy".
I had the honor and privilege to know Josh for a long time, but now it's been more than a year since he died. His family has become mine. Chris is 10 years my junior and my best friends are 20 years my senior. The people I should never have met were the most important people in my life.
I think Josh knew what he was doing when he asked me to visit him in the hospital and when he asked me to stay at home. When he was gone, he was expanding his family so that we could have more people to rely on. Josh was my student but he taught me more. He taught me about the concept of a chosen family, not by blood, but by love. People carry my heart in their hearts and mine.
Blaire is a South African writer and traveler. Her work has appeared in magazines. You can follow her on social media.
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