Who’s Gonna Miss You?

Every time I move to a new city, my mom worries.

 

Okay, she ALWAYS worries.  She’s a mom. 

 

But my mom is particularly good at keeping her cool.  The cracks only show when I move to a new area, far away, with no pre-established roots.

 

It is sound Mom-logic.  It goes like this:
If something happened to you…would anybody know?  Would anybody tell me?

This is, when it comes down to it, a very good question.  If I get in a car accident, I believe my license/registration/insurance all have her listed as my emergency contact.

But if I were to have an accident in my home?

If I were to choke on takeout?

Sure, when school is in session, someone would notice after a day of not showing up to class.  In summer?  Maybe a couple of weeks.  And that’s only because I have enlisted the department secretary to come look after my garden once a month when I go out of town.  They might not notice until fall.  Thankfully, all of those trips involve friends, who would surely be concerned if I never show up.  But they might just assume I was flaking out.

 

It’s an occupational hazard when one is a poor correspondent.

 

…

…

…

 

One of my students didn’t show up for his final this week.  He didn’t forget what day it was – he had sent me an e-mail the day before expressing regrets that tomorrow would be our last day.  He isn’t a ridiculously irresponsible 19-year-old – he is in his late 40’s. 

 

He is the sort of person that, were he stricken with food poisoning, would have e-mailed me.  Had his car broken down en route to campus (he lives about 40 min away) he also probably would have e-mailed.  Family emergency?  E-mail.  He loves my class and needs a good grade to move on.  Plus, he is a diligent student and GROWN-ASS MAN.

 

Right after the exam, I sent him a concerned e-mail.

The next day: a concerned voicemail.

Neither got a response.

I contacted my department head, and the Dean of Students’ Office.

They know nothing, and have told me this is the end of the road.  There isn’t really anything more I CAN do.  (I won’t go into all of the intricacies here.)  They will let me know if they hear anything.

 

Something has to be wrong, but it is officially out of my control.  At this point, all I can do is wonder and worry. 

 

If you want to know what my head sounds like, this is it:

A cacophony of emotion that I can’t quite make sense of…but whatever it is, it is true, and I am feeling it.

 

And if it turns out that he is happy and healthy and just decided this school can shove it, I will kick his ass for not at least letting me in on it.