Never take people for granted

I found out this morning, and just now had it verified, that a former student of mine at Howard University died yesterday.

Cedric, or Aquile as he preferred to be called, was an exceptional and non-traditional student.  He was a former Marine Drill Instructor and took my Communication Theory class in 2002. He was my best student, and, as you might imagine, someone who kept me on my toes about the class at all times. He had done the reading and then some. He had earned his GI Bill and was not about to squander it. That was not in his nature, and he let me and his classmates know it. It was good for all of us.

He  was also my friend. I knew he was not a regular student, and he knew I was not a regular teacher. Especially at Howard, an Historically Black College and University. We talked a lot about the things we studied, and I knew he was going to go places. Hell, he had already been places, and showed no signs of slowoing down.

He got his BA the same day I got my PhD in 2003, and he didn't have family at graduation. So I invited him to have dinner with me and my father, who spent 35 years in the Navy. It's always entertaining to watch sailors and Marines go at it, but my Dad was just happy to include him.

He went straight back to Howard that fall and started his MA, and this year was finishing his PhD. He had just started teaching at George Mason and the University of Maryland.

He was built like any 'retired' Marine; our typical greeting ritual was like hugging (and being hugged by) a refrigerator. Remember, he was such a good Marine that they let him help make new ones. He took physical fitness as a necessity, not an obligation.

The last time I saw him was in November in San Diego at a conference. I remember feeling like I got hit by a forklift that picked me up off the ground in a grip like a python. I was relieved to find out (when he put me down) that it was him and not some irate linebacker who had blindsided me. He was happy to see me. I was too.

It is always encouraging to watch a person take an already sharp mind and mold it into a formidable weapon. Even better, he never lost a sense of humor about deadly serious issues, and we joked about them as much as we talked seriously. So when this rather large Black man grabbed me in the middle of a dry, stuffy academic setting, and made a rather noticeable scene doing so, he was also the one who laughed loudest when I told him that I saw a lot of white people reaching for their phones to call 911 when he did it.

Aquile was the walking embodiment of personal excellence and integrity. He was exactly the role model that the young men of his community need. He understood the challenges, fair and unfair, that his community faces. And he was also a living testament that challenges are not barriers. So I can't understand how he died of respiratory failure, or asthma, or whatever the f@#$ it was.

On election night, he and I messaged each other about how we never thought we'd live to see the day that a Black man became president.

But now I'm the only one who will see him re-elected, and that sucks.

I'll freely admit that I rarely display kindness or sensitivity in these pages. But this is the fourth time one of my students has died, and it only gets worse.

So the next time you see or speak to someone whom you care about, be grateful, because they might not be there very long, and you will feel like shit realizing that you didn't tell them how important they are to you. Please tell them.

I like to imagine that right about now, Aquile is deep in discusssion with Malcolm X, MLK, or maybe Aristotle. Or maybe he's having a drink with Josephine Baker. He's a Marine, after all.