It was good to be reminded of our past and of some of the people who had a big influence on us. I was doing OK until my junior-high homeroom teacher's widow went up to the front to speak at the service. I didn't know that Mr. Brehm, my teacher, and Mr. Grisham were friends. Mr. Brehm also taught me typing, a skill I use every day.
When Mr. Brehm's widow mentioned that he had died, I choked up. I had been hoping to see him at the funeral. I wanted to go up to her after the service and say something, but I was still too emotional to speak.
Later, at the graveside service in the Fort Sam Houston National Cemetary, I did approach her. I was doing OK at that point until his daughter came to me to introduce herself. I could see Mr. Brehm in her. We hugged each other and had a nice talk.
I never knew that Mr. Brehm had married, had children, and died. I'm so sorry that I didn't see him again after I was all grown up.
Somehow we think of our teachers as being immortal, not mere humans like the rest of us.
Rest in peace, Mr. Grisham and Mr. Brehm.
"A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops." - Henry Adams