PB is gone. The first of my teachers to go.
Even though it's been some years since I met her last, there is still a void, a lump in the throat. A pool of regrets - why didn't I keep in touch more? why didn't I direct plays with her like she wanted me to? Why?
She was an outstanding person - free, honest, outspoken and compassionate. Waiting for Godot would not have been the same without her, the way she made us read out all the plays in class, with assigned characters. Life was a drama, and she was always the director.
But now that she's gone, the show must go on. She would've wanted it to.
And I hope, I never let the curtain fall on her stage.