Shannon Albert dot com

A couple of years ago, Andy and I attended the funeral for one of his coworkers. This man was survived by his 2 daughters who were under 5 years old, his pregnant wife plus siblings who had just buried their father a couple of weeks earlier.

Cause of death: self-inflicted gun shot.

His wife had discovered him dead in their home.

Andy doesn’t like how upset I get at funerals because I cry almost the whole time. I can’t help it and I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing. At this particular funeral, I wasn’t alone in my tears.

The format of the funeral was different than any I had attended. There was not 1 particular person leading – it was more free form where people could get up and speak if they wanted.

Due to the nature of his death, it wasn’t an open casket but there was a framed picture of him on an easel.

Many people got up and spoke and said such kind words about him. He had been a great employee. A great martial arts instructor. A great friend.

And then, shockingly, his pregnant wife stood to speak.

Through tears, her raw emotion guided her words. She spoke to the picture on the easel.

“You were the best man I’ve ever known.”

“I will always love you.”

“I will never know a man better than you.”

The whole room – including many male engineers – was in tears along with her.

In the back, her two young daughters played in a playroom during the ceremony. Afterward, she would join the girls outside to release balloons in the sky. “Here, daddy!”

After the widow spoke, a young man in his 20s – a former martial arts student of the deceased man – stood to speak. For the first time in the ceremony, he addressed the elephant in the room.

“This was not his fault. He suffered from an illness. He needed help.”

Indeed he did.

So did the husband of a popular blogger who hung himself in front of her earlier this month. She also had two children under 5 and spoke at his funeral. Her words:

And this is what you can do for me, for Tony, when you leave here today. All you men, you big men. When you walk away from here, you speak. If something is wrong, if something hurts, then you talk about. Tony was so busy taking care of everyone else, he didn’t care take of himself. So after this, you speak.

You speak.

Men with depression must speak. I’ve written extensively about my own bouts with depression. I get it. But it’s easier being a woman with depression. We’re usually wired to express ourselves better. There’s no shame in taking care of yourself.

Speak.

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In 1989, Oprah had a show where she was surprised with an appearance from her very favorite teacher – Mrs. Duncan, her fourth grade teacher. She went into the “ugly cry” and has since mostly banned her staff from surprising her because she has a hard time running a show after getting so emotional. Oprah said…

My eyes filled with tears, and I said, “Mrs. Duncan had a name! Her name is Mary.” As a child, I hadn’t even considered that Mrs. Duncan might have had a life beyond our class. It was in her class that I really came into myself. After all these years, I could say thank you to a woman who had a powerful impact on my early life.

Ms. Shafer was my Mrs. Duncan and ever since then, I’ve wanted to find her. Ms. Shafer happened to also be my 4th grade teacher (must be a great year!) and she was by far the best teacher I ever had. I was a super geek kid who found school to be incredibly easy but it also meant I was often ignored as kids who needed more help got more attention.

That is, until Ms. Shafer. Ms. Shafer didn’t let anything slide. I once snickered at somebody auditioning for a play and Ms. Shafer took me into the hallway and lectured me sternly about the rudeness of my behavior. I finished my work quickly but she always had more lined up to keep challenging me. The top grade was an S and I once got an S- in science during one six week period which she deemed unacceptable in her comments on my report card. (btw, you irrigate hills around, not vertically. I’ll never forget that after missing it on one of her tests.)

I don’t mean to leave the impression that she was a mean task master. She was not. She just expected excellence and in turn, she was excellent to us. Our class put on a couple of plays, we were always getting to change seating arrangements (sitting in a circle in 4th grade is fun, btw!) and the work was creative and interesting.

She was also a single mother to a daughter who was my little brother’s age. She managed to be an excellent teacher and single mother at the same time. That’s dedication.

And, so, through the magic of Facebook, I was able to find her daughter, Alane, who gave me her email address. And with a knot in my stomach, I sent this email to her.

From: Shannon Albert
Subject: Ms. Shafer!
To: [email redacted]
Date: Thursday, January 13, 2011, 1:11 AM

Hello!

I got your email address a couple of months ago from Alane after trying to find you for many, many years. You’ve had lots of students so I can’t assume you’d remember Shannon Barnes from 1984 but Alane remembered me and my brother so maybe so! I was watching an Oprah show several years ago when she had her favorite teacher on to tell her how much she appreciated her and I thought “hey! I want to do that” so I’m glad to have gotten your contact info.

When I went to Welborn (1980-1985), I had a fairly easy time because school wasn’t hard and I was usually at the top of the class. Throughout the years there, I often got bored with the schoolwork and/or ignored because there were other kids to deal with but you were the one exception. You always pushed me, you reprimanded me for some incredibly rude behavior that nobody else would have bothered to notice (I’ve told my kids about the times I was reprimanded in your class to make sure they didn’t do it!), you provided challenging work when the normal work wasn’t enough and always had interesting and creative projects for us. I so appreciate the work that it must have taken to be so dedicated to each and every student.

I just wanted to make sure you knew that your efforts weren’t in vain. It made a lifelong impression and I will always, always be appreciative of the time I had in your classroom. I’m grateful to have gotten some good support from a few key people during my childhood, including you.

I hope you are doing well. I’m an avid traveler and from what Alane said, you’ve been doing a lot of that yourself over the years which is really fantastic. Alane seems to be doing well and it was great to speak to her via Facebook.

Thanks again,

Shannon Barnes Albert

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And then I took a deep breath and realized that every email reply could be her. What would she say? Would she even remember me? The last time I spoke to her, I was Blake’s age. I took on the social skills of a 4th grader and waited anxiously for her to reply. 10 days later…she did. My teacher emailed me back!!!!

From: Ms. Shafer
To: Shannon Albert
Sent: Sun, January 23, 2011 12:23:09 PM
Subject: Re: Ms. Shafer!

Hi, Shannon!
Of course, I remember you! You are correct that I do not remember every student, but you are memborable for the best of reasons. (I don’t recall the reprimands although I know I am a tough taskmaster so don’t doubt that I did it!)

You were a joy to teach. I enjoyed your mom on the PTA executive board, as well, and have never forgotten some of her comments. One of which always brings a smile to my face and the other which makes me cringe for YOU. I always smile when I think about your mom saying that Alane taught Rusty how write in complete sentences using proper capitalization and ending punctuation, because she would make him correct his ‘I love you.’ notes if they weren’t written correctly. For you I cringe, when I think of your mom saying that at home you sounded exactly like me. Oh brother! I felt badly for you! You were so motivated to go the extra mile on projects. I think it was Danny with whom you were frequently partnered in some project or other. Thank you for the wonderful memories!

You have no idea how touched I am by the fact that you took the time to track me down and write to me. Alane probably told you that I am at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. This is my second year here, and the transition has been a bit difficult. Your letter arrived at a time when I certainly needed the inspiration that it brought.

If you have time to send a picture of you and your family, I would love to see it. Do you still live in KC?

With warm regards,
[Her real first name! She has a first name!] Shafer

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Can’t tell you how excited I was to hear from her and, even better, how much it meant to her.

Don’t save nice words for someone’s eulogy. Take the time to contact people to thank them and/or let them know what they meant to you while you can. You never know whose day you might make.

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Dear You-Know-Who,
Your comment the other day about how my life is a 4 hour work week got me thinking.

I realize your cubicle hell job that you must do to support your family sucks. It sucks bad and keeps you from doing all of the things you want to do. Know how I know? I did it for almost all of the last 16 years.

While you were single and traveling the world and living the life you wanted, I was working in cubicle hell. For the first few years, I also went to school full-time and took care of a child. It sucked!

Months of working 70 hours a week, often with no days off of work.

Up early to get kids ready for daycare.

Lunch breaks spent running errands for our family or fitting in a workout (no time for calling friends or siblings for a chat).

My spouse was also at work so there was nobody to run the house while I was away. That stuff still had to be done. Fitting it all in before, during and after work was always a juggling act.

The Sophie’s Choice we always had to make – a sick child buuuutttttt…we have important things to do at work. Often, work won over kids.

We worked all of those years to pay off debt. I haven’t added it all up but it very well may have been $100,000 in debt. Gone. No more.

We live modestly in a house that has a payment equal to 25% of Andy’s take home pay. I drive a 12 year old car with over 200,000 miles. We pay cash for everything.

It’s worth it because finally…freedom! Andy loves to work full-time at a job he enjoys. He likes the structure and the routine of it. I don’t.

Now that I have a choice, I choose to be at home and do things I’ve rarely had the time to do.

I cook. A lot.

I freelance to earn money. Money that has paid for our wood floors, all new kitchen appliances, carpet, our trip to Disney World, all of our Christmas gifts and soon all new kitchen counters. And that’s just in the last 7 months.

I get to take my kids to school every day and pick them up. I have time to sneak a nap every now and then. I plan fun things to do. Run errands. Go on runs. Whatever I want.

We worked hard and now have the freedom to make choices about how to live. I never want to feel stuck in a life that’s not right for me again. I hope you are able to find something less sucky for yourself in the near future. It’s much more fun this way.

XOXO,
Shannon

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