I got some really sad news on Thursday. My band director from high school died. He was more like a surrogate dad for me. I am so sad because the last time he got sick, (I blogged about it here) I told myself if he got better I was going to go visit him in Abilene when I went home to see my family.
I don't really know why I never went to do that. I knew it would be weird, and I think in the end I decided that I didn't know how his family would take me coming to visit. I didn't know how to approach it, and so it never happened.
I am really surprised at how it just knots my stomach up to know that I will never get to see him or hug him again. It's too late.
It's TOO LATE.
I feel like an ass. Excuse the language, but there really doesn't seem to be a better word for it.
I didn't get around to it.
I was too busy.
I was nervous about it.
Do you see it?
I was being selfish, and too wrapped up in me.
And now I missed out on saying thank you to someone who was so deserving of it. I only hope somehow, someway, that he knows. That somehow when someone else gave him that hug, that he knew that there were so many other people who wanted to be doing the same thing. Hugging him. Giving him a personal symbol of gratitude for the time spent worrying about us, the time spent treating us as his kids, the time spent figuratively slapping us upside the heads when we made stupid mistakes.
We love you Mr T and we thank God that He put you in our lives. Because God knew what we needed, and you were it. Thank you for listening to God calling you to be there for us. Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder when my dad started having new kids with his girlfriend, and he wasn't even taking care (physical nor monetarily) of the kids he already had. There is nothing I can do to repay you for it. I can only rest easy knowing that God is giving you your eternal reward now.