Mrs. B.

Just returned from a viewing. Mrs. B. succumbed to a long battle with MS. Mrs. B was younger than I. I learned some things at the viewing and although I'm not going to list them here in some organized way, I hope I can record a couple of things that will remind me later about best ways to live. PARAGRAPH! I met Mr. B. back in '93 when I was hired to teach fifth grade in Utah. He and some other fantastic people were on my team. So lucky for me! Mrs. B. was teaching at another school at the time. She was already battling some serious illnesses. I left that school to help open my current school and one year later Mrs. B. transferred over. She and I didn't teach on the same grade level, but it felt good to have "family" around again. PARAGRAPH! Talk about "soldiering!" That's what Mrs. B. did. She taught as long as she could. She loved the children. Her job kept her going. In my opinion, she was a fine example to all of us in handling very difficult trials with grace. I heard someone say about her tonight, "I loved her face the most. She always looked like she had the characteristics of an angel." When I went through the line at the mortuary, I looked at the photos and the momentos from her life and this thought surged through my mind, "Heavenly Father, help me to be more like her. And more like Thee." PARAGRAPH! First I met Mr. B.'s parents. They said their daughter-in-law was "a real special girl." Total understatement. They talked about losing a daughter of their own. I told them I remembered when their family was going through that. They also said they lost infant twin girls. Had no idea. Loved being in their presence until the line moved. PARAGRAPH! Then I met Mrs. B's siblings. They all look alike. So dignified. So calm. United strength. They practically screamed "Happy Childhood!" One sister mentioned something about probably teasing Mrs. B. a little too much when they were young. Aww...completely normal. Such a loving family. PARAGRAPH! Then I met Mrs. B.'s darling parents. They too lost a child in infancy, a son. It's interesting that these two sets of parents have such parallels. Mrs. B's mother said, "I know she was sick most of the time while she was teaching, but I hear she was still a pretty good teacher." Yes, she was. Your daughter was "pretty amazing." On so many levels. PARAGRAPH! Finally, I reached Mr. B. himself. I noticed something about him that I have never seen at any other viewing. He would not turn away from his wife. Some people stand at the end of the casket and after you greet them, you look at the body. Some stand at the head of the casket, so you see the body first and then greet the spouse. Some stand in front of the body with their back to the dead. But not Mr. B. His back was to the line coming through and he continually faced the casket. He did not turn away. I thought that was grand, darling, appropriate, and such a testimony of their eternal love and dedication toward each other. PARAGRAPH! I hugged Mr. B. and then we stood side by side looking at Mrs. B. I got a little choked up and expressed some regret that K and I hadn't visited more often than we did. The ever humble Mr. B. said, "Now don't you worry about that." He spoke so fondly of her. He expressed gratitude that she's not in pain anymore. He said, "That's what we've been praying for...that she could find relief from her pain." He also said, "I've got some tough days ahead of me." I couldn't help it, I said, "I think you've already been through some of those!" PARAGRAPH! And that was it. Short and sweet. But it impacted my life. I've had the pleasure of knowing the B's for nineteen years and I've been watching them and learning from them the whole entire time. They gave us a ceramic statue of the Savior, which Mr. B. made himself, for our wedding. It sits on a shelf in our living room. They wrote a message on the bottom of it, dated it, and signed their names. We looked at it after we got the phone call on Saturday afternoon and it hit me just then that Mrs. B's name will always be in our home, appropriately attached to an image of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane.