La vie comme elle va

Yesterday afternoon, I stood chatting to an ex-student who came up to me and greeted me warmly, which is one of the great rewards of the teaching profession. Nicolas looked as charming as he did the first time I'd met him at the open day of the school, back in 2003, when he'd come to enquire about getting on our course. Throughout the year he spent with us, his winning smile and quick intelligence were not enough to secure good grades, and make up for his lackadaisical attitude. I remember how sad I was that he couldn't stay on in the second year, and I encouraged him to try for a less competitive course. It was nice to see him, and a few of the other kids we had that year, but, alas, the circumstances were less than happy. We were standing outside the church where the funeral service for one of the class had just been held.

Les photos exposées dans l'église pleine n'étaient pas nécessaires: le visage de Pierre-Axel n'est pas de ceux qu'on oublie facilement: des cheveux raides retombent en frange au ras des yeux de myope, un peu flous, fendus en oblique au dessus de ses pommettes hautes, le teint mat, un sourire malicieux qui éclaire son regard d'étincelles soudaines, et le plus souvent, une expression de douceur et de gentillesse désarmantes. Ce garçon brillant a été accompagné au dernier jour par une foule de camarades, d'amis, de voisins, et dans tous les coeurs une question, aussi cruelle qu'obsédante: pourquoi, comment, une vie si pleine de promesses peut-elle être brisée par la maladie, la souffrance et la mort, à 25 ans?