When I first met Tamesha, I made a mistake that showed her to be a person of fortitude: I said her name incorrectly. I learned that calling Tamesha "Tanesha" was a serious infraction and one she was quick to correct. In all other ways, she seemed very quiet. So quiet, in fact, that when she volunteered to be part of the CHS drama club, I was surprised. Why would a girl, who seemed to appreciate being left alone in class, put herself out there that way in public? I soon found out.

In the fall of 2013, we put on a play called "Sweet Love...and a Chain of Fools." Tamesha had already performed in a previous play and had demonstrated that, for all her shyness offstage, she was daring on. In this role, she played the love interest of the main male character. The play was set in the 70s: Tamesha played a true hippie flower child, but with a pretty solid set of morals. The scene I remember most was her and Grayson in a van (made up of cardboard but lit from the back, so we could only see their body shapes through the "window") arguing about having sex. The humour came from the strength of her voice and from the actions of her rejecting him (we could see her push him away: it was hilarious with the overdone hippie voice she had created). It was, for sure, the crowdpleaser in the show. She shined. She was a star. When Tamesha told me she was moving away, I remember that I was near the window in my classroom. It was a pretty sudden move. I was at a loss. In addition to drama, I had also taught her English. She came in with another student to tell me, so I couldn't really ask questions, but I knew I would miss her and told her so. And I did. 

To find out that she is no longer breathing the same air as me is a sadness that I can't really express. I had hoped to find out that she had broken through into some creative future within her reach. This cessation is something that I have had to deal with before and will have to experience again, but each time I feel the loss of talent that the earth no longer has.

To those who also loved her, I share your grief. I feel blessed for the brief moment I had her in my life. I wish it had been longer.