Notes from the Teacher's Notebook

The Death of Matt's Best Friend

When he arrived I could see death in his face, overflowing. I asked him, "How are you?” although, I already knew the answer. "Not well," he said, "I'm destroyed, destroyed." The rest, I could see in his eyes. "One day he is here, the next, he's gone. Just like that. Smoke in the air. That voice, those gestures, his unique way of being, don't exist anymore. Kaput. Lost in the ether. Only his body is left, his shell, in which and I don't recognize him anymore."

He sat down and in Spanish I told him, "I'm so sorry."

He had Death on his face
Echoing still in his eyes.
The absence. The surprise. The question mark.
And no answer.

That's how I saw him when he arrived this morning for the piano lesson.

And I taught him "Happy Birthday."