The holidays have a funny way of opening doors we didn’t plan to walk through.
Music hits a little harder. Certain smells linger longer. Empty chairs speak louder. And for many of us, joy and grief sit next to each other like twins at the dinner table.
This season has a way of bringing loved ones back to the front of our minds, especially the ones who aren’t here anymore. For this edition of Kenny’s Corner, I want to share a poem by one of my favorite students. Honestly, one of my favorite people. Her name is Reagan Glover. Most folks know her as Reagan, but around school, she’s RayRay.
She has such a warm heart. She’s thoughtful, considerate, and if she reads this, she’s going to want me to tell you she’s funnier than me, too. I’ll let her have that one.
Reagan comes from a loving family. Her dad Benji, bonus mom Shelly, and her siblings Hope, Caroline, Walker, and Sterling surround her with care and support. But this poem is about her biological mom, who went to be with the Lord some years ago.
Reagan shared this poem with me recently, and I’ll be honest, it almost made me cry. Almost. I didn’t cry because I’m pretty sure it’s against the law for a male teacher to cry on school property.
What Reagan wrote stopped me. Not because it was dramatic, but because it was honest. It reminded me how young people carry grief quietly, how memory reshapes ordinary things, and how love doesn’t leave just because someone does. It’s the kind of writing that sneaks up on you and sits with you longer than you expect.
Figurative Language Poem by Reagan Glover.
This is how I remember flowers.
How we would talk for hours.
I used to love when it would rain.
Now all it brings is pain.
You were as bright as the sun.
And “wow” we would have so much fun.
I would travel all of Earth and space.
Just to have a glimpse of your face.
Cold days weren’t bad when I had you to hold.
I wish you were here to watch me grow old.
You were protective as a bear.
And you always made sure you did my hair.
Your funeral was pretty and everyone was there.
At the thought of your death, I didn’t cry.
All I could do was stare. I didn’t believe it was true.
I never thought I’d put flowers on something that held you.
After you left, minutes felt like hours.
This is now how I remember flowers.
I hope you feel what I felt reading that. If the holidays stir things up for you, maybe that’s not a bad thing. Reach out to some old friends. Visit people you’ve been meaning to see. Forgive some people. Let some stuff go. Love a little louder while you can.
I’m grateful Reagan trusted me with this, and I’m grateful I get to share it with you.
Kennedy A. Robertson, an educator and comedian, is a Ridgeway native.