Smart, cute, friendly, respected, hard-working, with a personal sense of style: Jenna was one of those students you just knew was going places. She could have been a model or a physicist. She was the student you meant when you said “the future of America.” I gave her a hug at high school graduation, and she went off to college.
When the news of her death came through Facebook, I wandered in the back yard, mourning. I found this swallowtail. It was late in the summer, and its wings were battered. It carried on, flawed as it was, finding food, moving gracefully, offering beauty. For a moment, it represented Jenna, gone to a different form.
The funeral was held at a small, conservative church where the preacher focused more on the strength of her family than on the status of her immortal soul, suggesting what they believed about suicide. They had music and prayer but no casket.
Facebook reminds me every August.
I was her high school English teacher for two semesters; I didn’t know her well. But she represented hope for the future, and every year, I remember the loss of that hope.
To my former students: all of you represent hope. Flawed but not quitting. Broken but not giving up. You ARE the hope. Hang on to that.