Chapter 12: Dalton’S Suicide: Dealing with Student Death in Education

Black and cream marble chess pieces are aligned perfectly with their corresponding squares, creating a harmonious symmetry on the checkered background. Needing to be polished, they gather dust in the corner of a room that I rarely use. Pictures are the same, scattered at various places throughout my home—visible, yet not intrusive in the monotony of life. The chess pieces, the pictures, and an assortment of other memorabilia serve as remnants of the pleasures and pains of life—and of my son, Tony, who committed suicide nearly thirteen years ago. Time’s passing has not lessened their appeal to me but has more likely elevated them to monuments of remembrance. With so little to hold onto, and yet needing a connection to him, they remind me that he existed. All of us, I suppose, learn when, where, and how to bridge the past moments of our lives to the present and eventually, envision ways to incorporate them into the future.