Dark Day

Michael was one of the first teachers I met here at the New York Center. He remembered me from when my profile was on the staff home page almost a year ago when I was in San Diego, and he liked to make jokes about how I wrote I was a pisces and liked long walks on the beach. He used to be a part of the academic administrative staff, but went back to teaching because he missed the students. He has been with the school since it was located right by the Twin Towers on Murray Street.

He was SO friendly, always addressed me by name, always smiled, and always came to happy hours! One happy hour, he told us about how he had closed on his condo in Jersey (and for the longest time we were all wondering, is he selling or buying? because we had had a few drinks in us when we got the news, and forgot to ask). But then he would always have things delivered to the school for him, like new blinds, etc, and we learned that he had bought it.

Today we learned that Michael died. He got caught in a riptide and drowned. There's something about those seemingly controllable events (when it's not old age, or health) that just drive you mad. I wasn't terribly close to Michael, but he was so friendly, and I just adored him. To hear that he died, so suddenly, is such a frightening disaster. I just think about how I won't pass him in the hall and his gray hair and great smile and say "Hi, Kristin!" and I wish that I had known I wouldn't have an opportunity to pass him or have a conversation or say something nice about him again. It is so unsettling.



And in the end, there's nothing like the reminder of our mortality to put life into perspective, and to realize how very lucky, fortunate and blessed I am just to be alive today, independent of considering I have a place to live, friends to hang out with, and food to eat. There's no telling when a cab might jump the curb and hit me, a hostage might take me in the bank and shoot me, or I might overdose on coffee and suffer a heart attack... so everyday God preserves me, I am thankful.