Maila

Dear Maila,

My mom called me this morning and told me that you had passed away. I felt relief, because I knew someone as vibrant as you hated life stuck in a nursing home and dealing with MS in your late 30's. I felt anger all over again, remembering the last time I saw you a few years ago when I was home--it was Homecoming, and our whole small Midwestern town turned out for the parade of tractors, girl scout troops, veterans, and the high school band. You were in a wheelchair by then, and I could see the injustice and worry in your eyes. I remembered you as a little girl when you were friends with my older sister--you were the weird sorta hippie girl on the block. I remembered you when you were my English teacher in high school, still sorta weird and hippie. You pretended not to notice when Julie and I would take hours to bring back film from the store for journalism class, knowing we were just doing normal high school skipping stuff. Then you came to do my observations when I student taught, five years later. Oddly, that's my job now, that's what I'm doing. I thought about how you did it. You had a walker-type thing by then, and you bravely smiled your crazy smile as we took the elevator up to my classroom, and I didn't know what to say. After I moved away, I'd hear about you from time to time, my mom worked in the same school your daughter goes to. Your husband wasn't the most well-thought-of person in town--you know how small towns are. I wondered how often your financial worries crowded your thoughts, how your family would be ok without you, even as your body continued to imprison you. I hope the last days weren't too hard for you--you never deserved any of this. You were only 39 fucking years old. I wonder what you could have done if MS had never knocked at your door and forced its slow way in. Great things, I know. I got you.

I am so sorry.

Update: Mom's email from today:
I just had to tell you what just happened. I was talking to Maila’s daughter, Roane, and she told me about her mom dying on Tuesday. So I told her that her mom had helped my daughter be a teacher, and Roane said that her mom is still teaching. (Maila had her body donated for research.) She said she was going to Iowa City, and maybe she would help people find a cure for MS.