RIP Jane Morelli Johnson, lover of swearing in class, Silent Sustained Reading, and giving no fucks.
  1. Discover that you failed to accept the friend invitation her daughter sent you on Facebook, and that you also missed the DM telling you Ms. Johnson had ALS.
    Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
  2. DM at least three people to make sure you understand correctly, that Ms. Johnson is actually dead.
    Nobody knows. Do your own sleuthing.
  3. Post shocked and stricken Facebook tribute to her and realize that you have thusly made yourself the de facto repository for the entirety of the school's grief.
    At least three people text you trying to make sense of it all, but you don't know. You're supposed to be good at grief, dead mother and whatnot.
  4. Go to a housewarming party, still in shock. Spend party searching email archives for your last exchange. It was at the end of 2010 and she wrote to say you were loved and missed and you thanked her for being such a wonderful influence on your literary and creative life.
    And you told her you loved her, too. That was it.
  5. Go home and eat edible cookie dough sent to you for PR promotion purposes while watching Silicon Valley at 1 am.
    Because it makes you feel alive? Or is that supposed to be sex and drugs?
  6. Fall asleep composing grandiose eulogy for Ms. Johnson, which you plan to send to your school's headmaster first thing in the morning. You will weave in all the kind things people are writing on your Facebook post and her family will weep to know how deeply she was loved and remembered by the community.
    You consider writing it down but are SURE you'll remember it all.
  7. Wake up at 7:30 and try to go back to sleep but can't for fear you may also be dying soon. Get up and make green juice.
    Green juice is a good thing even with death, right?
  8. Blast the soundtrack to Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet at top volume while driving Mulholland and remembering what it felt like to read The Scarlet Letter with her. Consider that these things go together, R+J and The Scarlet Letter, in a way you'd never realized before, but that you're certain she would appreciate.
    Sidebar: Please say the song "Local Gods" is used at least once in all eight seasons of Entourage. Also Garbage is kind of so on point.
  9. Eat cookies (cooked ones) your friend gave you and try to remember the eulogy you wrote for her in your head at 1:30 am last night. You can't.
    Resign yourself to remembering more privately, and with greater fervor.
  10. Wish that death weren't a thing.
    Feel like a child about it.
  11. Maybe reread The Scarlet Letter.