Lost

The first time she touched me, she was using me for a demonstration for her class. She had me throw a punch and hold it up in the air while she simply blocked it with a knife hand and kept the blade of her hand touching my forearm as she explained the technique to her class. This is the most vivid memory I have of her. The power I could feel emanating off of her hand was the most intimidating thing I have ever felt. I stood there and felt like a fool as I lost control and started to giggle. It was not a “this is funny” type of giggle. More like a “I am about to die” nervous giggle. I may have towered over her and was triple her weight, but there was no doubt as to who was in control. I have never felt more helpless.

On December 27th, it will be three years since Master Margitte Hilbig left us. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t mourn the loss. I owe a lot to her generosity and kindness while the experience and knowledge that left with her is unfathomable. I would give anything to have another hour with her.

“Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.” - Haruki Murakami (b. 1949)