Last week, I attended a virtual funeral for the mother of one of our 8th graders. It was surreal, heartbreaking, and uplifting all at once. Everyone was masked, including babies. Family and friends maintained social distance as they paid respects at the casket. Our student and his father gave moving tributes and a family friend belted a spiritual from a place so deep in her soul, I cried into my laptop. It was one of those times when you cannot name the emotion. I felt similarly when I finally finished Crime and Punishment.

If we pay attention, there are words and phrases that come up repeatedly in our experience, often with different meanings. Recently, I have been pondering the word "closure." Closure of schools, closure of stores, closure of restaurants, closure of parks, closure of churches, closure of most things we identify with normalcy. Then there is the lack of closure many are feeling right now. Maybe you couldn't say goodbye to your students, or your favorite teachers, or your co-worker who was laid off and just didn't show up one day. Maybe you lost a loved one without being able to say goodbye. Maybe, like our student, you had to say goodbye long before you were ready.

I don't know if we ever feel closure when someone close to us dies or a part of us dies: a friendship, a romantic relationship, a job, a school year. For our seniors, my hope is that they find some closure to this chapter of their lives, and enter the next chapter with a newfound perspective and resilience. To the class of 2020, thank you for being who you are, and thank you in advance for who you will become.