I was sitting in my office, door closed, crying.

Here I was, the spiritual support for my school, and I couldn’t hold it together. On the way in that morning, I received a phone call that a good friend and close mentor had passed away.

I’m no stranger to death. The first time I was forced to face the fragility of human life came at the age of thirteen when a classmate had a practice grenade blow up in his face. Then I sat at the funeral of another classmate at the end of high school who passed away from a brain tumor.

It may have been these experiences that marked me to dive into the contemplative life and study. I can’t say for certainty.

However, it was this death in particular that really struck home. I met this wonderful friend in my third year of University – he was my professor… and he found me quite annoying… like many of my teachers did (my role as a teacher now plays into the adage the punishment always fits the crime).

But, instead of just rolling his eyes and attempting to ignore me, which he also did periodically, he started challenging me. I would walk home from his lectures with my head spinning, staying up half the night thinking of what he said in class.

I found myself wanting to spend more time with him and hung around him during breaks and after class.

I was very lost, insecure and felt like I had no idea who I was during this time. He was helping me put it together and he recognized his influence on me outside of the classroom. After I graduated, we became friends and he started mentoring me on life.

He taught me authenticity – You have to be 100% who you are because people can’t engage with you unless they know who they are dealing with.

He pushed me to do my Masters – giving me the genesis of my topic and instructing me on how to take my courses in a way that plays into it. I finished my program way ahead of schedule thanks to that advice.

He taught me how to prevent burnout – I was trying to control a universe that didn’t want to be controlled, burning the candle at both ends to do it. Sometimes, you just have to let go.

I regained a real faith life – he was a formidable Priest, but he never talked faith: he lived it. I learned everything by his example.

While I waited for an arbitrary day to propose to my wife, he taught me that marriage isn’t about a perfect time because it doesn’t exist. It’s about growing together.

He was supposed to be the one to officiate our wedding, but his health prevented him from travelling at that time.

I got to visit The Magic Castle and attend San Diego Comic Con thanks to his connections.

He taught me how to be an effective teacher by first reaching to the heart of your students, then approaching ideas in multiple ways so they can build connections in their heads.

While I’ve always had the support of family and friends, it was his guidance that helped me find peace within myself.

The day he passed away, a part of me died. I felt lost again and turned inward in a way I hadn’t done since childhood. It took some time to grieve and as I wrote in “We Are All Broken,” no one really gets over the death of a loved one.

I find myself fortunate that I still get to speak with his family and as their only connection to his time in Canada, it was an uplifting experience to share stories when they came to visit.

I dedicated Transforming the Heart to him because that’s what he did for me.

Today, I will drink copious amounts of coffee and have a hamburger for dinner in honour of the person who taught me so much when I absolutely needed it.

I’m not sure if I can bleed anymore for you right now. I’ll see you tomorrow.