This past month has been a circus of the odd, as far as life passenges go.
My former MIL died, and now my former Prof at JMU. Hell, I'd add in David Frost, but because i'd never met him in person I suppose that's too reachy for a sad post.
At this moment, sad to say, I'm more torn by my horn teacher. The news is more fresh. The memories more far-reaching. The audition before freshman year, the offer of a scholarship if I'd become a music major, the years of lessons, the constant coaching, the good humor, the consistent expectation that we are always better then our last performance (even if you're playing horn 8 parts), all those things I'd never intended to leave behind and now bring to the fore to remember again as if I was 20 years old and hungry for everything. It's good to remember how that feels, that strong pulse to creativity, that surge, that freedom, that possibility.
Damn, Doc. I miss you, and I haven't even spoken to you in half a lifetime. Godspeed to you in the next, and much love to you on the way.
Also, to Sara - I had my first wedding rehearsal in a polka-dot dress, so I guess you know the answer to that question. I love you still, and always will.
To David Frost - I got nothing. You did it all.