Finding Equanimity
So, this is what you do at early dawn. Now I understand, the city is breathtaking at this time beautifully illuminated by the street lights, the moon and the stars. I tried to read your mind because you looked so lost and forlorn. Your guardian angel mentioned that this is not your usual route. You were walking aimlessly and almost listlessly.
“Can you hear me?” You whispered ever so softly. Tears like morning dewdrops began to flow down your cheeks. I wanted to wipe them away but I could not; remarkably I fondly replied, “Yes, I can hear you.” Then you asked, “Why?” I tapped your shoulder lightly and told you, “...so that I can watch over you.”
Can you see me? You thought to yourself as your vision became blurry. “I am here just walking beside you. This is what’s amazing and wonderful about it for I can be with you at anytime and not only during our previous, usual breakfasts every Saturday at home. For always, anytime and anywhere.”
Our conversations for over a year intermittently and sporadically came back in your wandering mind. “I know we talked about countless stories. Know in your heart that what needed to be said had been said. And you need not worry because you will never forget. I will constantly remind you.”
We would discuss about your gift often and our carefully laid out plans. I expressed to you that you are Papa’s heir to his writing legacy. I chose you even though you believed you were not worthy. I knew then that not even for a single moment would you volunteer to accomplish that mission. But rest assured that your talent will pull you through. Relax, just do your best and our good Lord will do the rest.
When I was running out of time, there were times I wanted to say goodbye to somehow ease the hurt and the pain. But it is better for you to have the last memories of our happy and hearty laughter, dry and wry humor, joyful and jovial moments immortalized forever. You can always go back and cherish them vividly to anchor your soul.
Then you smiled a little bit as you were consoled. In the abyss of your thoughts, you came to a realization that the silent stillness of the waters is more soothing in solitude than the comforting, chaotic multitude that will only leave you confused, breathless and exhausted. Introspection and reflection lead to consolation and enlightenment.
You are writing again and that gives me calming reassurance and great joy. Life goes on. Be patient for you have your own journey. We will see each other again. Where I am now is truly worth the wait. We will pick up from where we left off and continue our conversations. I am always here in spirit. And aren’t you glad you wrote this one with me?
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