Unrequited love

Kataomoi 

The man I consider my work mentor passed away after a long illness. The disease was generous at first, letting him work full time with reasonable interruptions for therapy. Then the disease decided it was done being the nice guy.

I went to Yoda's memorial service.

(I've decided to call him Yoda for purposes of this entry. I should clarify that this is a Star Wars reference, not his real name, even though"Yoda" is an actual family name in this country.)

I thought about what I'd learned from him, and how much I loved and respected him, and how I'd thought I wanted to have a family with someone like him someday (I didn't) and how I'd wanted to have something like a family with him someday (I didn't).

My co-worker showed up later than I did. She was guided to one of the seats in the front of the room, where the important people got to sit. I turned green with envy. Surely I'd loved him more than she had? Was I not important to him?

Then I looked around the room and it was full of people who loved and respected him, and the room was so full it overflowed into another room set up with a big monitor that showed the ceremony going on in the room I was in.

My love for him was greater than his love for me. A selfish thought, but still genuine. A very common tale, really. It was probably that way for pretty much everyone in the room, save his wife and children and grandchild.

He was one of those people who was everyone's favorite teacher. I guess that's his legacy. Us. His intellectual descendants who will do the work that he still wanted to do but can't anymore.

Yoda, I love you and miss you. You are in every work task I undertake. I will try to live up to the honor of being one of yours.