My Son Died in a Car Accident at Nineteen – Five Years Later, a Little Boy with the Same Birthmark Under His Left Eye Walked into My Classroom

Hope is dangerous when it shows up wearing your dead child’s identical birthmark.

Five years ago, I buried my son.

Some mornings, the ache still feels as sharp as that first phone call.

I buried my son.

Most people see me as Ms. Rose, the reliable kindergarten teacher with extra tissues and band-aids.

But behind every routine, I carry a world that’s missing one person.