I look back now and realize how much people extended themselves for me during my time of need. The school staff supported me through the spring as I imped towards the end of the school year. Neighbors baked casseroles, did my grocery shopping and made sure my lawn was mowed. Patrick's friends, who were scattered all over the United States rallied around me; calling, sending emails and cards, and generally keeping tabs. Our families, Patrick's and mine, were a large part of my support system as I navigated life as a widow and childless mother. And my best friend, Jody, came to my rescue by leaving her life in San Francisco to live with me for three months. I am eternally grateful to all those who stepped up to the plate and stuck by me during some of the most difficult times.
One group of special souls were six senior boys at Pleasant Hill High School, who had grown close to Patrick over the span of their high school careers. Patrick had helped them with resumes, college applications, goal setting, and basketball coaching. But they had also become his friends...and he was their confidante. This group of boys were also in my first period Senior English class. Prior to the accident they were usually late, chuckling about being Seniors. But after the accident, that group of boys were always on time, most days waiting at my classroom door when I arrived at 7:30am. Waiting to make sure I was okay and ready for another day of school.
One morning in early May, one of the boys, Preston, came to me with a surprise. He said "Ms. Barr, I know your dog was in the car with you and I know you were close to her. My black lab just had a litter of puppies and I would like to give you one of the females, so you can have another dog."
I could hardly look at him. Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to hold the flood gates together. Not wanting him to see how touched and deeply moved I was, I busied myself, straightening piles of papers on my desk. I told him that it was such a kind offer and a wonderful gesture, but I wasn't sure I was ready to have a puppy.
Preston said, "but Ms. Barr, we are all worried about you being alone. We would all feel better if we knew there was someone/something near by."
I declined again and added that I really couldn't have a puppy because Runa had done so much damage to our fence, yard and house. When I was at school, the puppy wouldn't be safe.
Preston left my classroom a little deflated but understanding.
That next weekend at about 9:00am, a truck full of tools, a wheelbarrow and bark-a-mulch pulled up in my driveway. Preston and five other boys from my class jumped out of the truck and one other car ready to get to work.
"We are here to fix your backyard" they told me. I was floored. Such generosity, kindness and compassion shown by this group of young men brought joy and sadness to my heart.
Preston, Jay, Andrew, Eric, and Josh spent the entire weekend at my house repairing the fence, replacing siding on our house that Runa had chewed, and laying the foundation for the new dog house they had built in their wood shop class the week prior. They spent the entire weekend repairing, cleaning and hauling... absolutely backbreaking work.
As they packed up to leave Sunday afternoon, Preston came back and asked, "You ready for that puppy now?" How could I resist?
I picked Elmo out of a litter of six puppies, she was the last female. (I named her after Olivia's favorite Sesame Street character. Liv adored the red, furry Elmo. Her routine each morning was to get breakfast, park in front of the TV, and eagerly anticipate Elmo's World. She never missed an episode and watch it in its entirety, even if she had seen it a hundred time. Elmo, by far, was her favorite.)
Elmo came home with me after school one night. She barked, whined and moaned the entire night, lonely for her family. I understood.
"I wish I could bark, whine and moan too," I told her.
"Does it make you feel better?" I asked. If it had, I would have done it every night and as loud as possible.
Elmo and I spent that summer getting acquainted, learning how to handle each other's personalities and foibles. She became my hope. My hope that life would resume again and that I could rebuild.
Runa had been the dog who witnessed my rights-of-passage into adulthood.
Elmo would be the dog who would witness my transformation into a new life.
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