Cancer Sucks

Barbara was an early supporter of this blog.  She commented on several posts, both on and offline.  She knew far more about educating young kids than I do, but she was intrigued by this crazy project of ours.  When the boys were looking for service opportunities, she introduced them to her brother-in-law, who needed some help that she could no longer provide as her illness was progressing.  Then she wrote the boys a long letter about her husband’s family and their life in China before they came to the US.

She was also a supporter of my work in grad school, serving as an advisor on a paper I wrote about orphan novels.  She wasn’t an expert on bereavement, but she knew how to think deeply about children and development.  Her feedback was equal parts critique and encouragement.  She didn’t have a single student who didn’t rely heavily on her insight, wisdom, and gentle guidance.

Barbara and I did not share worldviews.  I once questioned an article she assigned to us in a child developmental class.  It was about magical thinking in childhood, the kind that is usually outgrown but “persists in some adults,” religious types like myself.  Barbara displayed an incredible grace that day, apologizing for the bias in the article, a bias not supported with science.  Other times, she pushed back on my understanding of a situation or article.  She taught me a ton about children, but more about being an adult, the kind who can think critically about ideas while extending grace and kindess to the owners of those ideas.

Barbara died yesterday.  She was only sixty years old.

I hate cancer.  And I hate death.  And I hate that Barbara lost her long battle against both.