You Don't Know How Much I Miss You

I received a message from a childhood friend one day who told me about the passing of our third-grade teacher. It was not recently but about a year ago when he was ninety years old. I've been feeling concerned about this teacher because he had not responded to my letters like he normally would.  Now I know why. Today, I'd like to share a story of my teacher, Mr. T. 

Mr. T was an extraordinary human being to us---children. At that time, we knew he was a special teacher but did not realize that he was also an accomplished author and scholar.  Mr. T specialized in teaching the Japanese language, literature, and history. He taught us to speak properly, respectfully, and politely in Japanese. Parents were impressed that students started speaking very well after this teacher entered their lives. Although we were only nine or ten years old, we were aware that our speaking level was above average for Japanese children our age.

Mr. T also taught us how to write literature and poetry, took the time to share interesting stories of various topics, and read us books that were famous and/or rare. We often begged him to leave some time to read to us. Mr. T made sure to take the time to get to know each of us, and we loved him dearly for that. 

When we were in our fourth grade, Mr. T was chosen to be a part of an “Exceptional Teachers' Group” that went to Europe to visit their educational ministries and schools. We knew this was a very important event that our teacher was chosen to take part in.  My classmates and I folded origami cranes and flowers for him to share with the European children he would meet during his excursion. We missed him very much while he was away and would often look at the world map to track where he was. Needless to say, my classmates and I were eagerly waiting for his return.

When Mr. T came back to our school, he shared with us what he saw and learned. Mr. T told us that the European children loved our origami pieces. Although European students were kind and well-behaved, Mr. T told us he thought of us often and how we made him proud. Then he gave each of us a metal horse keychain that he purchased in Paris. Each keychain was wrapped in stylish French wrapping paper that looked very unique. I still have it at my parents' house in the original wrapper.  At that time, the Japanese could only bring a limited amount of currency when they traveled outside of Japan.  Thus it made me feel extremely special that Mr. T went out his way to purchase these just for us.

The photos that Mr. T brought back were filled with smiling children in an unfamiliar-looking school environment and pretty scenery. Everything we saw and heard was new to us and made us curious. This was my first time hearing about the smallest city in the world, "Vatican City," which is only 0.6 miles long and 0.5 miles wide from Mr. T.  I am still amazed that I remember these discussions from his class.

During his two years as my teacher, he encouraged and helped each of us write stories and poetry even though some of us felt that we were not good writers or did not enjoy writing. He was exceptional at helping each student share their everyday journey in a simple and sincere manner to create whimsical yet touching personal stories. Then each year, Mr. T published thick books filled with our stories and poetry and gave each of us a copy to keep. I still treasure these two books to this day.

Several years ago, I happened to stumble across Mr. T's blog posts on the Internet. He was in his 80s but was still actively writing and volunteering to teach literature to a few groups of adult students. I contacted him via his blog, and he was very excited that I found him and reached out. We met in Japan the following year. Mr. T was still very sharp as if he never aged.

When we spoke, he was able to recall the time he was my teacher. Mr. T taught thousands of students during his career, yet he remembers all these things that I did from years ago. He also told me that he reunited with a few other students from my class over time. He was truly appreciative that many of his former students read his blogs and reached out to meet him after all these years. Later that day, he wrote about our reunion in his blog and posted poetry that I wrote when I was nine years old.  I was very touched by his gesture.

Mr.T treated me to lunch and tea a couple of more times when I traveled to Japan. I was supposed to see him again in 2019 along with a childhood friend, but the timing did not work out for us. We promised each other to meet the next time I was back in Japan. I regret the fact that we will never have a chance to meet again.

Mr. T wrote his last blog on January 12, 2020, that he was feeling ill and planning on seeing a doctor. According to his younger brother, after Mr. T was admitted to the hospital soon after, he was diagnosed as being in late-stage cancer. Mr. T's father was a Buddhist minister and grew up with Buddhist beliefs. Mr. T accepted his fate and decided not to go through any surgical treatment.  About a month later he passed away. 

As a child, I knew nothing about Mr. T's upbringing. In fact, I don't think any of the students in my class knew. However, when I read his books as an adult, I learned that Mr. T lost his father and mother when he was around ten or eleven years old. Mr. T and his brothers were just kids who had to survive on their own thru World War II. Mr. T briefly wrote in one of his books that living was extremely hard for him and his siblings, and he wished that they did not have to endure what they went thru. Regardless, he had the resiliency to overcome all the hardships and obstacles to become who he was.  One of the bright spots during such a challenging time was Mr. T also met many phenomenal teachers, writers, scholars, creators who nurtured him during his young adult life.

I treasure reading his blog posts because his writing was exquisite, intellectual, stimulating, and genuine. Sadly, not many people write like he did because he had so much knowledge of the Japanese language, literature, history, and culture that made his writing a living art. 

Mr. T was loved by many, including his students, parents, colleague, writers, publishers, scholars, artists, and singers!  I could tell that he lived through an exciting time as well.

I am mourning Mr. T's passing and trying to process what this loss means to me so in a desperate attempt to search for meaning, I went back to read his blog post again. That is when I realized that I had commented on his last blog to tell Mr. T to please take care. Mr. T normally replies to all the comments, but there is none from him on this one. I should have known then that something was wrong.

Mr. T wrote his blogs for eleven years. I know I am going back in time to read all of them because I want to keep learning from him. It may be foolish to try to hold on to what's left. I know that life is all about impermanence. Yet, the loss of Mr. T is not just about losing a mentor but also an irreplaceable storyteller, teacher of the delicate, beautiful Japanese language, literature, and culture, and a living witness of a shift in the modern history of Japan. 

I have a huge void in my heart.

Thank you very much, Mr. T. I am so lucky to have you as my teacher and mentor. Rest in peace---you don't know how much I miss you, but you are forever in my heart.

The beautiful sky sometimes makes me sad. Sunset in San Francisco, California.