Kyoto-Sensei

I met you, a scared 22 year old fresh out of college and far from home and the comforts of family and friends. You took me under your wing. My age reminded me of your own children and I guess that made you feel inclined to care for me.  I eagerly tried to do everything and you calmly told me to observe and learn. You told me to chill out, which I thought I'd never hear from an old Japanese man. We argued over what makes the best breakfast. I still think toast, oatmeal, and orange juice is the way to go. You stuck with your roots claiming that there is nothing better than rice and miso soup with hot green tea in the morning. You were the first to come to school and the last to leave, even though you were dog tired. I remember hearing you snore at your desk from the staff room computer. I let you sleep.. I thought you could do with a bit of rest.

I loved our inside jokes. The word "try" has a deeper meaning now. I hope you didn't mind when I dared you to eat a glob of wasabi. Thanks for being honest about my Japanese skills. It really does suck., but thank you again, for believing that I can get better.

Nakao-Kyoto-sensei, I miss you. I'm left with wishes that I could have done more, could have said more, a goodbye at least. That last day I saw you, you were going to the hospital. I had no idea for what and how serious the condition was..  Fear and worry glazed your eyes and it jabbed at  my heart for I had never seen your eyes like that before. After the ferry arrived at the port, I hurried off hoping I can give you a sincere "odajani, take care," squeeze your hand and say "ganbare. do your best" However, all I saw were rushing people off to their connections in Hakata Station or epic shopping excursions in Tenjin. You must have hurried off the boat to get the hospital as soon as you could. I waited and you never appeared from the boat.


Now, I make up spiritual bullshit to cope with the fact that I'll never see you again.

I pray at my self-made altar to Mary, mother of Jesus, Maybe the wind will carry my thoughts to you. If I pray hard enough, maybe your spirit will hear. I wait for a response, or a sign that maybe you heard. However, the only movement is the flame from the candle. My faith falters a bit, but I know it's because I want instant gratification, instant relief.