||[Aug. 20th, 2007|10:01 pm]
The Darker Side of Cal
My flute teacher of 7 years passed away today.|
She had cancer, which was a shock in itself. It started in her stomach and spread to her liver. She went in for chemo last Friday and passed away today.
Like my grandmother, she was always a very sprightly person. Very confident, in tune with musical sensibility, and deeply religious. She didn't drink and didn't smoke.
I remember being probably one of her worst students: she found in me a natural talent in a provisional audition, and she took me despite her two year waitlist. I was lucky, but I was a brat back then. Still am, I guess. I never practiced. I had the volume and control, no doubt, but never developed it, despite the years and years of lectures and advice she tried patiently to instill in me. She never yelled at me, unlike other students, despite me being the most trying, and she often fed me, which I suppose is the Asian way of telling me she was fond of me.
I haven't spoken to her once since I moved, and now I'm left with all this lingering regret. I should've gone to see her some Xmas after we moved back. I should've told her that this summer, yes, when I picked up the flute for the first time in 9 years, I finally got what she was trying to tell me. I should've told her how I realized how lucky I was, how grateful. God, I'm such a fool.