“Oh God, I’m going to be late again!” I yell at the elevator button as I pummel it to death. I feel as if I’ve been checking my watch every 30 seconds.

I check it again. 8:51AM it glares back at me — mocking me, I’m sure. ;-)

I guess I should fill you in. See, I have a 9:00AM class, in which I feel as if I have not been on time to since the first day. I have this class on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so I set my alarm for 8AM, right? I have a 9:35AM class on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s, and since I’m lazy to switch back and forth my alarm clock, I just leave it at the nice, round time of 8AM.

Unfortunately, lately I’ve been laying in bed for about fifteen minutes, and this includes the days I have the 9AM class.

“Oh come on, hurry hurry!” I say, jamming the “1″ button with all my might, praying that it doesn’t stop. The elevator swings to a halt in a jerky motion that I’m completely used to by now. I look up at the digital readout.

14

Oh crap.

About 5 minutes later, we stop swiftly at the 1st floor, not before picking up a person from every floor, of course. I am the first one to fly out of the elevator as soon as the doors open.

I practically run to my class, only to arrive at the front of the building at 9:03AM.

Uh-Oh. Late again.

I go inside and fling open the door. Everyone turns around to look at me. Trying to pretend that class hasn’t started, I make my way quickly to my seat. I usually sit by my friend, Joanette, which is on the other side of the room. This class has about 150 students, and today all of the seats seem to be taken. It’s a giant lecture hall, so I go down the stairs to try and quietly find a seat, as the professor is already talking.

“Miss Kimberlin!” I hear suddenly, and I look around to see who called my name. To my utter horror, I see the instructor, Professor Walab, motioning for me to come to the front of the room.

Now people really turn around to get a good look at me. At this point I feel as if I am sporting a deer-in-the-headlights look. Which, I remind myself, I probably am. Blushing furiously, I head slowly to the front of the class, wondering vaguely how he could have remembered my name. In a lecture class of 150 students, all you are is a number.

“Oh nevermind Miss Kimberlin,” He says loudly, and I hear the door shut quietly. I turn, too, and look at the new intruder along with half of my classmates.

“Mr. Grant!” Professor Walab says enthusiastically, gesturing for him to come down to the front of the class.

“Miss Kimberln, you are spared,” He says, and I need no more formal dismissal. I quickly scoot into a seat by Joanette as the scene unfolds.

“Mr. Grant,” The Professor says, talking to this poor kid who’s tragic end I do not know. The Professor opens his arms as if to embrace him, but instead leans upon the table. Grant is blushing like crazy, trying to not stare at the small crowd which is the classroom as he stands, facing us all.

“I would like for you to apologize to your classmates for being late,” the Professor finishes. Grant looks to the professor like he is mentally insane. I, too, look upon in horror for what I was ’spared’ from.

“I’m er…I apologize for being late,” Grant mumbles, his face looking like it was on fire it was so red.

“And…?” Professor Walab says loudly, waiting patiently for more. Grant looks confused.

“Errr…and I apologize for disrupting the class,” He says slowly and more loudly, looking to the professor to see if this was an adequate response.

“Very good, Mr. Grant,” The professor says, nodding like Grant’s statement was a proper one.

“Please note, Miss Kimberlin,” The professor says loudly, turning towards me and at the same time speaking to the class. I sink as low as I can in my chair. “That if you are late again, this is what will happen to you as well.”

Not wanting to play anymore games, Grant quickly dodges from under the Professor’s grip and takes a seat in the far back. People turn to stare at me, some with shocked faces, and others with smug looks or grins. I can feel my neck and face get warm, but I sit up straight - with dignity.

“I’ll never be late again, Sir,” I say loudly and looking the professor in the eye. I create a small stir of laughter from the students. He nods in approval, and class continues.

That’s the sort of feeling I get after reflecting upon today.

It started out with a phone call from Teresa:

“Jillian…?”

“Yes?” I say, trying to dress at top speed, as I will be late for the 15th time in a row for my first class of the day — Hell, of this week.

“Dean was trying to get a hold of you earlier…but I just wanted to let you know that Derek’s funeral is today and you can come if you want.”

“Thank you; I probably will,” I say, and we hang up shortly afterwards.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have any ‘nice’ clothing with me. I just wore what I normally wear, jeans, and a t-shirt (a red ISU shirt, and oddly enough it is what I was wearing last Wednesday when I first heard about Derek, now that I think about it…)

I get to work at 10AM, and I turn to Dean who seemed about to tell me about Derek’s funeral. I told him that Teresa already told me, and I explained my situation to him.

He lent me his car to go and get clothing.

About 70 bucks later, I’m wearing nice black pants, and a black-with-grey-striped shirt, and nice shoes. Not bad for an entire outfit. ;-)

What I just remember the most is running into the mall (I asked Teresa if she would go with me). If it wasn’t for her help I probably would have picked some sort of women’s pants or something ha ha — good thing she was there. I just feel bad because all I kept on saying was “Hurry Teresa, we have 45 minutes left…Hurry Teresa, we have 30 minutes left, etc.” Even though she was in heels and I was still wearing my tennis shoes for my jeans. ;-)

The funeral was nice, all things considered. I think what really upset me was shaking hands with all of his family. When we got to his grandmother, I thought she was going to start crying because of everyone who showed up from his school and work. This is the part, which made me really sad.

There was an entire van-full of people (9 of us) from work, along with 3 other ‘van-fulls’ of people from Watterson. Apparently students were able to sign up to go, thus is why it was necessary to take 4 vans total.

I think I liked Pete’s remembrance story the best. In the middle of the Wake, they had a sort of interlude where people could come up and tell their memories of Derek.

Well, Pete told a story about how they took Derek’s monitor at work, and I remember coming down to their cubicle that day just as Pete was putting a sticky note on the monitor stand on Derek’s desk, which said, “monitor.” Teresa was telling Pete to hide it in a drawer, so he hid it in the bottom drawer at his desk.

What I did not remember, however, is what Pete told next. He said that the next day, they came into work, and not only had Derek taken Pete’s monitor, but he had also taken everyone else’s monitor as well from the Development Team and placed it on his desk. Derek thought he was really funny for doing that.

I think what I also remember most about that sort of interlude was the husband of a wife (They seemed to be a young couple; possible newly-weds?) who came up and told us a moving story about their wedding. Apparently, they wanted a small wedding, with just a few witnesses (Like three I believe). Well, one of them was Derek. It was so heart wrenching, especially when his wife started to cry, he choked up near the end of his beautiful memory and had to return to his seat to comfort her. I thought that was a very nice memory of Derek.

So Good-Bye, Derek Pagels. I hope your soul finds peace in it’s final resting place. I hope your family finds inner strength to carry on and support each other, as I hope the same for your friends and anyone close to you.

You will be missed by many, and I hope whenever I think of you I will smile at your memory.

Because I will.