Mentor. Teacher. Friend.
That's what Charles Persall was to me. I loved every minute of every class I took that he taught. He provided me with a little slice of Texas when I was in Iowa at school. He knew my family, so he was someone I could talk to.
Charles Persall was a great man, and he was taken from this earth too soon. I miss him profoundly. My sadness feels like a living thing, pressing on the back of my throat. The sorrow is so real it feels like vomit on my tongue, waiting to be purged from my body.
The worst part is I'm not in Iowa to help support the family that supported me through my college years in Iowa. I want so badly to be there, but my job, and the annoying fact that I haven't been paid yet for that job, keeps me in Texas.
Sometimes it doesn't feel real. I forget that he's gone, and when I remember again, the grief feels like it will overwhelm me. It physically hurts to think about it, but it's all I can think about at times.
I knew I loved Charles Persall, but I'd forgotten how much he helped me and how much I learned from him. Knowing that he's not here anymore has unlocked those memories, and I can see parts of his teaching in my classroom when I'm teaching my students. Things he taught me influence me even now, and I know he visits my classroom.
The day Charles passed, a problem student in my classroom actually worked, and he was respectful and didn't act like he wanted to shoot me, which was a major improvement. I like to think that Charles was there, whispering in his ear, telling him to cut the shit and give me a chance.
Words cannot express how much I loved him, and how much I'll miss him. I didn't see him often, but when I went back to Graceland in the past, he was always there. I don't know what Graceland will be without him there, and knowing that he'll never greet me with a smile and a hug again will be the hardest part of going back.
Charles, I hope you're having one hell of a party in heaven. Keep it real up there, and I'll see you again.
