goodbyes

There's no way around them - goodbyes are just extraordinarily sad. I know that they're an inevitable part of life, but somehow every time I run across one it really hits me.

One of my students is a diplomat's daughter from Czechoslovakia, and today she will depart to go back there for who knows how long. She started coming to our dj about a year ago, after having trained at another school for almost 3 years. I remember when she first came, she was this foreign girl who never talked to anyone, and as per the protocol, wore a white belt because she hadn't equivalency tested. In fact, I almost thought she was an adult until one day she approached me and asked if she could join my junior sparring class on Friday nights.

"I" was an interesting one to teach, because she hardly ever spoke. She started out without much sparring experience, and was frankly incredibly slow. I find it hard to teach people who I can't read off the bat - it's always a question of what and how much desire they have, and how to motivate them. For the longest time I didn't think that she really cared that much...but the true test is how much someone shows up, despite how torturous or painful it might be. "I" had a surprising amount of dedication, and though she was so silent it was hard to notice, I realized recently that she was there every day, taking multiple classes a day. She never asked for help, never complained except for the look of "I hate you for making me do this" on her face...but she was just there, fumbling through drills until she got them.

I remember coaching her at her first tournament - it was the first time that I saw her personality. She was scared out of her mind. I had to convince her that she wasn't scared, and she went out there and won a silver medal. She never seemed to be the competitive type, but she even went to Jr Nationals with us, and trained as hard as she could for it.

One day last month, I turned around and realized - she had become good. Out of nowhere, she was fast. She kicked hard. She yelled loud. I'm sure it was a gradual progression, but somehow I turned around and saw her in a new light. That stoic unexpressive Eastern European girl had now become one to really just leave her heart out on the mat and put the pieces together. I was in the middle of teaching a class, and I noted it in my head and was so proud of her.

Yesterday was her last day...and as we chatted, we laughed over how when she first started taking my classes her assessment was "I hate it...but I kind of like it". We were sitting around, and at random I asked her "do you want me to torture you one last time?" Her eyes kind of lit up (yes we are crazy) and she got up. I gave her 20 minutes of my most painful drills - and for those 20 minutes she gave me 100% of her effort - which is all I've ever asked for in my students. "I" looked like she wanted to die, but in a way, she looked like she was having the time of her life. I know that feeling...I had it last week when I was dying under drills and Sab said "remember...you love this!"

"I" teared up as she said her goodbyes to Sab. I was standing outside the dj with her and K, and as I hugged her goodbye, she said "I always wanted to fight like you". And then she left.

People come in and out of your life, touch in, touch out. But even in a short time, without intention or words or sentiment, someone can really touch you without you knowing it. I'm really going to miss her presence in class and in training. Convincing her that she wasn't scared, and the way she's always the first to say "NOT ME!" when I ask "who's tired???" and how she would always tell me she hated my classes but would always be there, without fail.

From 17 year old "I", I'm reminded that actions speak louder than words. That sometimes, words are unnecessary.