In Memory of Mr. French
I sat alone about halfway back on the right-hand side of the large church auditorium, lost in thought. It was the funeral service for Mr. French, my piano teacher. I did not know any of his family but felt compelled to honor the man who had faithfully worked to make me a better musician. I remembered all the times I walked up the stairs of his brownstone home and into the front room, where the intense smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet sound of piano music flooded my senses.
For years I couldn’t help but feel that we had all suffered a great loss that day and that Mr. French had with his passing taken so much talent with him, somehow leaving a musical void in the world. If only there was a way to re-capture his gift and bring back the music, he so effortlessly gave us.
Then one day it dawned on me. I was looking at his life and passing in the wrong way. His musical legacy continues to live on through all of his many students, each carrying on a piece of his incredible gift. His willingness to teach and mentor us was the very thing that has kept his musical legacy alive well beyond his natural years.
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