An Open Letter to Who Would Have Been Richard's Kindergarten Teacher

 Dear Kindergarten Teacher, 

You are missing a little boy from your student list this year. He would have light brown hair, dark brown eyes, a nose like his father’s, and hands like his mother’s. He would be wearing a Batman t-shirt, often with a cape attached, zigzagging down the sidewalk, in a rush to fight bad guys. 

There will be an empty cubby that should have his backpack and lunchbox haphazardly stuffed together. The lunchbox would likely always have some sort of sticky residue - grape jelly or applesauce, perhaps. But I know you would try your best to keep his things organized, reminding him to neatly place the papers in his backpack. 

There will be an empty desk that should be labeled with his name: Richard. He would have a hard time writing his full name because it has so many letters. The “R” would likely be backwards, and the “a” would look more like an “o.” But I know that you would have been patient with him, hovering over his desk, encouraging him to practice some more. 

There will be an empty space when you gather the class together to read on the carpet. He would have sat in the front, waving his hand frantically to answer any questions that you posed. He would probably have volunteered to help you turn the pages, but I know you would have politely refused. Seeing his enthusiasm, you would have given him a classroom job instead. 

There will be an empty swing on the playground during recess. He would have been the boy running from child to child introducing himself: “I’m Richard. Do you want to be my friend?” He would have grass stains on his knees and need a bandaid for a new scrape that he got from playing freeze-tag. But I know you would have taken care of him, reassuring him that he is safe and that his booboo will heal soon. 

There will be an empty spot in the pick-up line. Once he would see my car, he would start jumping up and down and pointing: “There’s my mom! See? There’s my mom!” Although your day was long and tiring, I know you would look down at him and smile, telling him how happy you are that you get to see him again tomorrow. 

Sincerely,

A Bereaved Mother Missing Her Son