Megan

The last time I had any contact other than Facebook with Megan Cianfrance, she was a senior at Green Mountain.  The senior class had somehow convinced me to sponsor them for a trip to the Museum of Science and Nature during Senior Week.  I reluctantly agreed and found myself walking through the museum with a bunch of kids and quoting Catcher in the Rye as we walked by the glass enclosed dioramas filled with polar bears and sheets of blue ice and deer and badgers and pretty little Indian squaws convening over freshly woven blankets.  It was a nice time.

When we were headed toward the bus (it was only a small group of seniors making the trip), Megan came running up to me.  "Mr. S.  Mr. S.  Could I sit next to you on the ride back?  I want you to protect me from ____________(name withheld)."

It seems there was this lost little senior boy who had developed a crush on Megan.  Who could blame him?  He started a little friendly stalking at school, but I guess the stalking had gotten out of hand at the museum.  Megan, being a member of the Cianfrance family, was simply too nice to hurt the kid's feelings.  That's why she figured sitting next to me would be a harmless way to fend the little creep off.

I said sure thing and we rode back up to Green Mountain together.  The stalker ended up about four rows behind where he sat looking longingly at Miss Cianfrance.  Megan and I talked about what she had planned for the next year.  We talked about her brothers, school politics, prom, graduation parties, the usual stuff.  It was a nice time.

I went to her funeral yesterday.  She was 36 and died in her sleep about a week ago, leaving two children, a husband, and scores of devoted family members and friends behind.  The Reflection Pavilion at Crown Hill was standing room only, but I did manage to recognize a few faces of Megan's high school classmates.

Derek came up and gave Kathie and I tearful hugs.  I hadn't seen him since his first film, "Brother Tied," screened in Denver years ago.  He lives in Brooklyn now with his wife and children.  They are both filmmakers.  Derek and I spent a lot of time together in The Ram Page office years ago.

After the funeral proper, I managed to make my way to shake Jason's hand.  Jason was the first Cianfrance to appear in one of my classrooms and he was a terrific kid.  I discovered he is a 25 year veteran teacher along with his wife.  I can attest that a family with two teachers at the helm is a comfortable way to live.  I'm so happy for him.

This was the second funeral I have attended for a former student.  John Bezdek's was the first.  I didn't like the feeling at either one.  It just wasn't right.  Megan's beautiful little boy wept loudly through the entire ceremony.  He is just a year older than Willa.  I don't want to think about the trauma he faces.  Megan's daughter is older than the boy and the spitting image of her mother.  She managed, although I don't know how, to maintain her composure through the whole thing.

The two kids went up and put some keepsakes in the coffin and right before they shoved the coffin into the wall, the kids released a bunch of doves who kept flying in circles above the crowd with the traffic on Wadsworth roaring by.  The juxtaposition was, to say the least, disconcerting.

While the celebrant was saying a bunch of things that my unaided hearing had no chance to discern, I looked at the plaques on the wall.  There were a lot of last names that were familiar.  I was heartened to see that so many of the deceased were long lived.  There was one old guy who managed to last until he was a hundred and ten.  I wonder if they released doves at his funeral.

I leaned over and told Kathie once again that I wanted nothing to do with a formal funeral in front of a wall.  I want her to sneak into my old classroom and spread my ashes in one of the book cabinets, preferably the one that used to hold Brave New World.

On the other hand, I do want the doves.