I walked into her elementary school and introduced myself to the principal.

I didn’t come to mourn; I came to work. I started volunteering twice a week.

I sorted library books. I helped with art projects. I became the lady who knew where the best picture books were hidden.

One afternoon, the principal handed me a thick stack of manila folders. Inside were letters from Sarah’s former fifth-grade students. “Miss Lawson made me love reading,” one girl wrote.

“She told me I was brave before I believed it,” wrote a boy with messy handwriting.

I sat on Sarah’s floor and read every single one until I had no tears left.