Yesterday we had a meeting with the former colleague of Amelia’s who has been shepherding through the creation of a scholarship fund, the Amelia Diaz-Allmart Scholarship Fund, at their high school. May 26 is to be the awards night for this first of what we hope will become an annual award: two $500 awards to students who have had to overcome significant obstacles to continue their education, who care for their fellow students, who are committed to the community and to education, and who are courteous and fair-minded. Amelia possessed all these attributes, and she would often come home talking about students in her classes who evidenced them, as well, praising their courage or their concern for a peer.
One of the sweetest gifts came during our conversation, however, with this former colleague. As we visualized how the ceremony might go forward, Mary began to cry: tears just welled from her eyes and ran down her face like a gentle rain; and when she could speak, she said she wished the students might, somehow, know even a little bit about Amelia, how she wished they could have known her.
Isn’t that remarkable? Amelia lives on in this dear woman’s heart so strongly, so vividly, that the mere thought of her, of what she represented perhaps, could move her deeply, now nearly 8 months after she left us here.
As I looked for pictures of Amelia to share for them to use in the ceremony, I found two that seem to speak to this, and poignantly.
The first was taken in April, 2003, with some flowers Gonzalo sent her to cheer her up a little bit. 
See how wan she is, how the weight has begun to drop off her. Her hair, stolen by the chemo, has come back, though it would never again have the same silky luster. I realize now that she knew that death was already sitting at her elbow, indeed it would be only two weeks before our doctor would tell her the cancer was finally coming for her unopposed, yet she smiles: tiredly, perhaps, worn from her struggle, but unbowed.
The second was taken at Husayn’s wedding in 2000. 
I hadn’t given this picture much thought, as in the original she is standing next to someone we are not close to. But look how elegant she is, slender, upright, bright with life and color, gracefully standing on the grass. The most telling thing, though, is her expression: leaning toward the speaker, intent, encouraging without words but through every line in her face and her dear body. No wonder people were drawn to her. Who would not feel valued, lifted up, cared for, when those lovely eyes, that radiant face were turned toward one with such love, such attention?
Yes, it would be wonderful if these two young people might be touched by her when they receive their award, so they might feel what we who loved her felt every day: ennobled, encouraged, loved.
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