This story won’t take long, but if I could this story would go on forever. That is how much I had admired this man. He was a dedicated teacher who knew so much of his students’ potentcial for greatness, but did not have time to admire their bright futures. The day he had died, I remember pulling up behind a parked ambulance. Any sign like that would make you worry. I had heard from one of my friends that my english teacher had collapsed, but it was in math class when my world had fallen apart.
“He has passed away,” my math teacher had said between sniffles, but what she had said had rung painfully in my ears.
He was gone.
I remember gripping my friends arm so hard that I was sure there would be a bruise there by tomorrow. That was probably the only time I’ve ever wept in front of her. It’s never a comfortable feeling when you cry in front of someone because you know that they feel terrible for being unable to truly console you.
It had just started snowing recently when this occured but already winter came and went. It’s funny how I’ve never let go of this memory even though it’s depressing. There’s no forgetting his aspirations to teach. Never.