RIP Mr. Grace

One of my high school teachers died suddenly of a heart attack last week. He was 58, young as far as I'm concerned. It was sudden in all respects but also because a lot of us saw Mr. Grace outliving us all. He was a fixture at AC and the possibility of him not being there was simply not something any of us ever considered. He was the type of man who could talk about "punching you in the face" one moment and then act almost like a protective father the next. He had a tough guy image he firmly upheld but he always meant well and it was evident that he cared about his students.

I went to the wake today not quite knowing what to expect. I was not particularly close to him: I had him for Honors World History and I quit softball the year before I would have played Varsity so he was never my coach. I was also not close to his sons although they too went to AC. I expected many familiar faces and some joking but really that was far from the reality. The line stretched all through the funeral home and out to the street. When I finally reached the room where Mr. Grace was I had no idea what to expect regarding his family. I'd never met most of them before.

He was lying in his navy blue ACHS long-sleeved T shirt, which he wore very often. His face was positioned in a serene almost half-smile and he didn't have that false overmade look many people do in their coffins. His wife was next to the coffin and when she wasn't speaking to a mourner, she was staring at Mr. Grace with a look of despair, a combination of disbelief that he is gone and a longing to have him back. We shook hands and I said that I was very sorry for her loss. She looked at me with utmost sadness in her eyes and said "thank you" and although we did not know each other and without even thinking about it I hugged her and as soon as I did she began to cry. I just wanted to comfort her in that moment and I had no way to do so because I was merely a stranger and there was a line of mourners waiting.

Farthest from the coffin was his son, Sean, who was a year below me. He is a very tall young man and I'm not quite sure where he got his height from: his father was of average height as is his mother. I shook his hand and looked up into his face as I expressed my sympathy. Normally Sean was a joker, no stranger to getting into trouble in school, always laughing with friends. He looked me right in the face and there was an emptiness in eyes, that look of dark sadness that makes the eyes seem all the more deep. And at the same time, although we don't really know each other and I'm sure he did not recognize me, he looked sincerely glad that I was there, to share in his grief, to express my appreciation for the man that Mr. Grace was, to offer some kind words.

I had no idea what to expect going to the wake, and was not at all prepared for that experience. I have never been to a wake quite like it. I'm glad I went. I'm glad I said goodbye. And I'm glad that there was one more person there to show that Mr. Grace was a well-loved ad appreciated man.