And the Professor Keeps Teaching...

Two nights ago I saw on facebook that one of my dearest friend's father was nearing the end of his life. I deeply love my friend, and I deeply love her father. He is one of the most brilliant men I have ever known--an internationally known philosopher.

One of my favorite things about this man is his intellect (which is FAR superior to mine) but more importantly his skill at sharing that intellect with others in ways they can understand--not dumbing down but rather lifting up.

My body physically reacted to a surge of guilt--guilt I didn't know it was getting this close; guilt I haven't seen him very much recently; guilt I haven't talked to my friend. But I didn't stay there--I recognized I could wallow in that, and I was and am certain I will spend some time in that particular pen in the future, instead, all I knew was I  had to see him the next day. I had some things I needed to tell him.

And one of them was to apologize for not being there more. As I went through my day before I visited with him, I thought about why I hadn't visited more. I pass the retirement home where he lives EVERY DAY! The truth is, I didn't make the time for a variety of reasons--some even good--and then the more time that went between visits the harder it was to visit because of that damn guilt. I reflected on how that happens so often in my life and I'm certain in others lives.

I mentally hog tied that guilt up and went to have the conversation I needed to have...

I arrived to find a hallway full of visitors and a sign on the door that said, "please limit visits to 10-15 minutes." I was prepared to come back, but the other visitors said they needed to be going and so I entered the room. My friend left to walk a guest out; I pulled up a chair and took his hand giving thanks for this time and the others leaving.

Recognizing I only had a few minutes alone with him and also being a card carrying member of the rule followers I jumped right in;  I took his hand and said, "I need to tell you some things. First I need to apologize that I haven't visited more over the last year." He interrupted me, "No apology is necessary," then he looked me straight in the eye and said, "it's not necessary for me, but I see it's necessary for you. I accept your apology."

Tears streamed down my face as I received undeserved grace. I continued, "I want to thank you for the many conversations we have had over the years over a pint, a glass of wine or a cup of coffee. I will never again be able to talk about agape love without hearing your voice in my ear and in my heart." (He's written a great deal on agape love.) "I also want to thank you for holding space for me. For holding anger for me when I couldn't hold it or even acknowledge it myself because it would have broken me. I want to thank you for opening your home and your heart to me and providing me  a safe place to retreat." He looked at me and said, "I did that? Well I guess I did, but never underestimate your own strength. I always saw it."

He squeezed my hand and asked, "Are you happy?" A wave of peace washed over me as I realized I could honestly, and perhaps for the first time in a long time answer, "Yes,I am in a content nondramatic way." His eyes twinkled and he said, "Like the happiness Aristotle writes about." We went on to talk about Aristotle and happiness. "You know," he said, "No one really knows if he's lived a life of happiness until the end of his life." And so I asked him, "Was your life happy?" "Yes," he said, "I might not have been able to say that 10 or 15 years ago, but I now know it indeed was."

His eyes began to close and I knew he needed some rest. I told him I was going to go; I leaned down and kissed his head; he reached for my hand again and said, "Katherine, this right here. This is agape love."

The professor keeps on teaching....