What a delightful surprise to see Mr. D and Sandy at a recent funeral. My heart stirred when I saw them. I felt compelled to speak words of life and love to my High School teacher. I wanted him to know how much he meant to me and to so many people. I made a beeline for him after the service.
“Mr. D, I just want you to know how much you mean to me . . .” But before I could get going, others huddled around, took pictures, shared memories, talked, and talked, and talked. But I was determined to have this conversation. People moved away, the room was almost empty, so I started again, “Mr. D, I want you to know . . .”
This time the funeral director butted in, arms waving directions, “We need you to move out of the room, we have another funeral to conduct.” I could tell he was not a man to cross, we left the chapel and went into the hallway.
I tried again, “Mr. D, it’s important for me to say this . . .” Someone stopped by and thrust their cell phone in Mr. D’s face, “Hey, my daughter is doing great now, here’s her house, yada yada.” Seriously? Can I just have a moment?
Finally, space seemed to open up, “Mr. D . . .” Oh, for crying out loud, the funeral director was unhappy again. “Could y’all please move out of the hall?
We have another funeral about to start.” Sheesh!
We moved to the lobby. More interruptions ensued.
Maybe this wasn’t the place or time.
But I waited. Finally, I was able to look Mr. D in the eye and express my gratitude and love. I don’t remember what I said exactly. But I do remember being grateful for the chance to hold his hand, hug his neck, and speak life into him.
I had no idea it would be my last conversation with him. Today, June 22, 2018, Mr. D entered heaven. I’ll cherish this picture and that moment forever.
There will be endless accolades from thousands of students over on Facebook about how wonderful Mr. D was on earth. I look forward to reading each one. But right now I want to draw attention to this fact: we never know.
We never know when our last conversation with someone will be our last conversation with someone. So, it’s really important to speak up. Sometimes we feel silly or shy about saying soulful things. Sometimes the slightest bumps in the road can deter us from our intents.
Here are my two cents worth:
Stay the course.
Say the words.
Speak life.
Speak love.
Speak gratitude.
You may not get another chance.
In honor and memory of one of the greats, Jay Donmoyer, aka "Mr. D," and his lovely wife Sandy.
