three: teacher, mentor, friend

This one goes back quite a while... and has been shortened to omit my personal details.

We met when I was going through the turmoils of adolescence. Seeing you every Thursday evening was a welcoming routine. Even the nights when I dreaded having to face you with nothing to show for. You never got mad, though most people in your situation would be. There you were devoting your time, giving 100% of your effort. With your patience I eventually learned some practice ethic, which has paid off in ways I never expected. While you taught me the techniques of how to memorize pieces and how to cheat when notes were too far apart for my hands, those lessons paled in comparison to lessons after lessons.

Having the last lesson of the night was almost a guarantee things would never start on time, nor would they ever end on time. Ending on time would've been a shame though because I really looked forward to our glasses of juice and chats. We almost never talked about piano, and you had a way of listening and questioning me that really validated me. You were one of the few people I felt I could share my dreams and passions with, and you always encouraged me to chase after them. I was always surprised how by that time of night you could still have the energy to care, and how that would rub off on me. I don't remember ever leaving your house without being blessed in some way.

Then cancer happened. Though most people would never be able to tell if they just met you on the street. Your optimism was ever more fiery and you seemed just as energetic as ever. Even after the intense chemo sessions, you would always be looking out for your students. When you couldn't teach you would enlist the best teacher you knew. He was your perfect match and getting to know the two of you was like a real life love story. I was so touched to see you both at my graduation, even though I had already pulled the plug on my piano playing. You looked so beautiful that day, especially since you left the wig at home and let the few bits of hair reclaim their territory. Your gift was such an inspirational read, that I still have it on my shelf when I need some reminders that miracles still happen.

Part of me always thought you would be able to beat the cancer, because if anyone deserved to it was you. Saying goodbye was especially hard, even knowing (and hoping) that one day I would see you again. Maybe when that happens I can tell you all the stories of my dreams fulfilled. I was so lucky to be a small part of your life, as you were so much more than a teacher. Every time I pull out my old scores of music to give them a whirl I'm reminded of a happy time and a safe place.