He took me out one evening, along with my wife, Diana -- his youngest daughter -- to the best taqueria in town.I didn't speak a lick of Spanish at that time, and it was a pleasant surprise when Señor Manuel spoke to me in fluent English after graciously playing the piano for me after dinner one night in their home. He talked to me about his career as a music teacher that spanned many decades, and it never failed to amaze me to hear stories from his own former students -- many of whom would still call him on his birthday or on Christmas day after all these years -- about how inspiring a teacher he was to them. Some of these students we would chance upon on the street while we were walking around the neighborhood -- to a nearby café or to church -- and they'd speak to him animatedly, with genuine joy, while fondly calling him "Maestro." It was awe-inspiring.
Señor Manuel has been the closest to a second father to me here in Mexico. It was a pleasure to finally speak with him in his native language the past several years as my Spanish improved. I particularly remember that time when he could still walk on his own, and we were in the well-manicured -- thanks to my mother-in-law, Señora Mary -- garden of his home on a pleasant spring day. He talked of his children and how he was proud of the people they've become. He made sure his son and daughters finished their studies because he didn't have any material wealth to leave them.
What he'll leave them is a legacy of a decent, hardworking man who made sure his family wanted for nothing. A father, husband, and brother who was always there when it counted. A mentor and friend who was quick with sage advice when it was sought out, and it was sought out frequently.
It hasn't been an easy past few years for my father-in-law, someone who still enjoyed walking and playing music in his retirement years, someone who loved driving cars as much as he admired them, someone who actually bought his own small plane many years ago and learned how to fly it -- eventually inspiring his only son to want to become a pilot.
But while his body deteriorated, his spirit never wavered. He couldn't play the piano anymore, or walk -- much less drive -- but he could still tell his stories. And boy, could the man tell stories. He has a published book of those stories -- those memories of many years ago -- and it will be an honor to finally read it -- in Spanish.
His stories -- from him, and about him -- are all we have now. But that's enough. For someone who lived his life the way my father-in-law lived his, that's more than enough.
What he'll leave them is a legacy of a decent, hardworking man who made sure his family wanted for nothing. A father, husband, and brother who was always there when it counted. A mentor and friend who was quick with sage advice when it was sought out, and it was sought out frequently.
It hasn't been an easy past few years for my father-in-law, someone who still enjoyed walking and playing music in his retirement years, someone who loved driving cars as much as he admired them, someone who actually bought his own small plane many years ago and learned how to fly it -- eventually inspiring his only son to want to become a pilot.
But while his body deteriorated, his spirit never wavered. He couldn't play the piano anymore, or walk -- much less drive -- but he could still tell his stories. And boy, could the man tell stories. He has a published book of those stories -- those memories of many years ago -- and it will be an honor to finally read it -- in Spanish.
His stories -- from him, and about him -- are all we have now. But that's enough. For someone who lived his life the way my father-in-law lived his, that's more than enough.
Descanse en paz, Señor Manuel. Gracias por recibirme con los brazos abiertos y permitirme formar parte de su hermosa familia.
