People in your life will come and go.

Sometimes they stay for a season;

Sometimes a few.

Sometimes they leave an impression

On your life

Like fingerprints left in wet paint.

The canvas may change,

The paint may dry,

Get painted over,

Re-dry.

But underneath,

The impression never leaves.

I’ve been an art teacher in a professional capacity for a few years now, but long before I could claim the title, I had my very first art student, someone I taught to paint when he was certain he couldn’t. We had a fun time proving him wrong and painting became a defining passion of the remainder of his life, a simultaneously creative and therapeuitic outlet.

A fifteen-year stroke survivor, he passed away this week, after some long and hard-fought health battles. The loss is very fresh, but one thing I can comfortably say already is that if anyone has earned peaceful eternal rest, it was him.

He was my first art student, before I ever considered myself capable or worthy of teaching it. His wife, one of my best friends, likes to think of it as such a gift I gave to him, this new hobby that after initial hesitation he dove into headfirst. That isn’t strictly true, though. The real gift was from him to me, showing me that art isn’t something that just keeps a child busy and out of the way, or a teenager from getting into more nefarious pursuits, or young adult from living a less colorful life. Art is a channel through which zest for life can pass from one person to another, building connection and meaning and strength of will. Art isn’t out of reach for anybody; it’s meant to be shared. And those of us who have an easier time reaching art ought to be bringing it down closer to others who find it intimidating. It needs to be accessible; otherwise, its value and significance become stunted.

When we first painted together, we started with basic color mixing and exploring how it felt for him to hold the paintbrushes, figuring out a comfortable grip, how much pressure to apply on the canvas, that sort of thing. After he got the hang of the process, I asked him what he wanted to paint. He asked if we could paint trees; how could he have known that’s one of my favorite things to paint? I showed him how to paint simple evergreen trees, and he was thrilled. I haven’t painted a single tree in the years since that first session without thinking of him as I do it. While much has changed for me artistically and professionally over the last near-decade, I doubt that will ever change.

The impression never leaves.