Rest in Peace, Jennifer

In the Spring of 1990, I was teaching an MR class at the Elementary. There were enough students for two classes that year, and the other teacher had been there since Adam. As school was drawing to a close, I was informed that since the majority of the two classes were moving on to Jr. Hi, my position was no longer necessary, and I would be going on with them. That year was eternal, high-lighted by the death of my dad. (In Feb. of that year, Andy told me I could flip hamburgers in the Fall rather than go back to Jr. Hi. Another story for another day.)
Each day of that year, I walked myself to my classroom chanting, "May will come, May will come." The day was spent working with emotionally disturbed 8th graders who disliked me only marginally more than I them, and I felt my life a waste of time, at least professionally.
Except for Jennifer. I read today that she is dead at the age of 30. I wept.
For one period a day that year, 3 students made me smile.
Trey - a long, skinny, talented boy, Amy - a poised, warm, knowing young lady I still see around town, and Jennifer. She was funny and bright, and kept me from killing a kid or two. I lost track to her until just a few years ago, when I came upon her on campus, picking up her son. She looked just like she did all those years ago, and smiled and hugged me tight. Over the next couple of years, we'd see each other and visit a minute, and it was so wonderful to see how things had turned out for her. And now, she is dead. It takes the air out of my lungs to
type it. How - do I even want to know? I almost hope it was a disease or accident rather than something more horrible - does that even make sense?!
She leaves behind two pre-teen sons.