Tragic loss strikes to the core

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions” (Hamlet)

I am very seldom at a loss for words, but the sudden, tragic passing of Mrs. Katie Husain leaves an ache that surpasses language. We know how little control we have over this life and world of ours. We like to pretend that a decision here or some more effort there will somehow tip the scales in our favor. Somehow, we can outwit the fickle hands of Fate and forge our own path. However, the unvarnished truth reveals a far more profound wisdom. Like all wisdom, it is wrought in the fire of pain and burnished through the life that still remains.

Before Katie was my colleague in the English department, she was a student in my classroom. Her irreverent sense of humor, sass, and world class snark made my world a far better place. I have worked with some extremely talented students over the years who know how to play and tease with language, and Katie richly deserved a seat at that table. When she went off to college, I knew that her bright light would shine on dark paths in whatever profession she chose.

Imagine my surprise when Katie showed up in the halls of West, first completing educational training and then working as a long-term sub for Alex Griffith. When I stopped down to ask her if she felt ready to take on the challenge of stepping into the rather large shoes of the legendary Ms. Griffith, Katie simply responded, “I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing tomorrow, which terrifies me, but I’m sure everything will be fine.” I just chuckled and told her I could now sleep better at night. We shared a cynical and sardonic sense of humor, a trait that has been quite useful in the dumpster fire of 2020. When I was texting with her back in October about remote teaching and commenting that it looked the worst of Covid might still be coming, she responded, “Hoax, I hear.” I just about choked on my coffee.

Anyway, fast forward to Katie’s interview for her position at West. If you haven’t had the pleasure of sitting through an interview, particularly with my pleasant face and imposing eyebrows, you probably can’t fully grasp the nerves she was most likely feeling. Of course, Katie could be quite a bundle of energy, so that’s probably not the biggest surprise. I’ll never forget her answer to one of our ‘canned’ questions about why she wanted to get into education. Katie had already graduated from UW-Madison and seemed destined for a career in law or some such madness, but she went back to be a teacher. She said, “Education has done so much for me and made me a better person. I just want to be able to provide that for somebody else.” (It was close to that - my memory isn’t quite what it used to be.)

And she did. She did provide that for many ‘somebodies’ during her brief time within my English department family. She touched her co-workers through her energy and generosity of spirit. I know that she touched her students as someone who genuinely cared and would listen in times of need. And now, she will touch our memories as the years stretch out before us, years taken far too soon from Mrs. Husain. My heart breaks for her friends, her family, and her husband. As a married man who understands what it is to share a heart with another human being, I cannot fathom what it is to go on during these days for Jeremy.

If you made it this far, I thank you for reading. Having to use past tense to describe what Katie meant to me tears me up. She was my family twice over - first as my ‘kid’ in the classroom, and then as my department mate and partner in crime. She would want to make this into a teachable moment, so let me try my best. We are guaranteed nothing regarding our time on this little blue marble. Katie sped from diagnosis to treatment to a memory so quickly that we could not adjust to the shock of the loss. For we that live on, I beg that we learn to cherish each moment. Put aside the petty division. Take a moment from your work and breathe the fresh air of life. If you love someone, tell them. If you need forgiveness, ask. If you have fallen down, stand back up. While the heart beats, possibilities never end. Take a chance and live this life for all it’s worth.

“Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality” (Emily Dickinson)

By Trent Scott, Oshkosh West Index Advisor

Oshkosh West Index Volume 117 Issue IV

February 1st, 2021

Index Web EditorsComment