Gail Houston's Remarks from the Memorial Tree Planting Ceremony

Hector Torres has become a kind of secular saint for me. As Chair of English, I spend most of my time in the Chair’s office on the second floor of the department, where the business and busyness of department matters take place.  I go up to my own office on the third floor when I need to think and have some quiet time to prepare for class. Hector’s office is still there across from mine with the memorials students have left on his door as well as some of Hector’s own items—the cross woven from straw, a green rubber bracelet with the word “inspiration” on it, Hector’s picture of Jesus.

The shock of seeing Hector’s office door but not seeing Hector himself has still not diminished in any way after a year. I will forever feel the loss of his presence there. But now when I go up to my office across from his, I’ve started noticing that the sun always creates a strip of light that glows from beneath his door. And I cannot help but think that if I opened that door the light would be so overwhelming that I would not be able to bear it.

Hector sought the light of knowledge—a brilliant man, everyday of his life was devoted to learning, teaching, and sharing knowledge. So as I always envision my uncle now inhabiting the Sangre de Cristos, I think of Hector as inhabiting the light in his ongoing quest for knowledge. And I thank Hector for being that example to me.