Today I spent my birthday with Dr. Schwebel. It was the most meaningful 21st birthday I could ask for. True, it wasn't all wild parties and fun, but the memorial we had for Dr. Schwebel tonight was so incredibly therapeutic for me. It was the best birthday present I could have received from her (if teachers gave birthday presents to their students, that is, although I'm pretty sure that, had Dr. Schwebel still been my teacher, she'd at least have brought in cookies and M&Ms). I have already written so much about Dr. Schwebel on my blog, I don't know what more I can say. She was really part of an era in my life - the Dr. Schwebel era, I can call it - and I am definitely a different person now than I was a little over a year ago when I didn't even know her. My time as her student is like a story, and if it really was one, I think it would end tonight. Or perhaps tomorrow, with the sun rising. Dr. Schwebel was all about adventure. She was about rising suns and eating chocolate. She was about exploring, discovering, and just plain having fun. Dr. Schwebel was an exciting person. You never knew what she had up her sleeve. I hate how I'm filling this entry with cliches, but the thing is, with Dr. Schwebel, it never felt like a cliche. It was all so real. I am still having trouble accepting that I will never see Dr. Schwebel again. Like I recently wrote on the Blue Blog, I still dream about her. In my dreams, I can never catch up with her and talk. She is constantly pushing me away or I wake up right before I get to say anything. I don't know why my dreams are like this, but I really, really, really wish that even in my dreams I could get the chance to speak with her. I have so much to tell her. I feel so cheated that just when my relationship with Dr. Schwebel was growing, I lost her. I don't know if she could hear what we all said about her tonight, but I want desperately to believe that she could and that she did. I know I was speaking about her, but inside, I was crying to her. I wanted her to hear everything I said. I wanted her to know just how much I appreciate everything she taught me, whether in the classroom or just from being herself.
Also, if anyone knows how I can get a Latin II book that I can somehow teach myself from, at least a little bit, please, please let me know. It hurts me to think that I might lose what I spent so much time with Dr. Schwebel learning and I don't want to forget my Latin. Then again, I feel weird about having another Latin teacher, aside from a book. It's too soon. I don't know. Latin has become something almost sacred, symbolic of my bond with Dr. Schwebel. It is something that still connects me to her. When I read that passage tonight - it was the first time I was reading Latin out loud since I was in her class. Latin has become so personal. I wish Dr. Schwebel was still with me, still teaching me how to properly pronounce the words and how to put the correct accent on the right syllables. I wish she was still teaching me her tricks for remembering things. No, I don't think I could learn Latin from anyone else right now. It wouldn't be right, somehow.
Oh God, I just miss Dr. Schwebel so much. Dr. Schwebel, I hope you were with us tonight. I hope you were with me on my birthday. I hope you heard what we had to say about you and I hope you understand just how much you still mean to all of us. To me. I cannot wish you a shana tova or a gmar chatima tova, but I can hope and pray that you are somewhere safe now, somewhere where you are happy and exuberant and somewhere good. I don't understand much of what happens after a person dies - you know more than I do (but then, you always knew more than I did and I so looked up to you because of it) but whatever sort of existence it is, I hope you are in the best state you could possibly be in and that no more harm can come to you. May you succeed in whatever adventure you are in now. Please, please, please don't forget about us who miss you so horribly.