Of Mornings and Sundays

Mornings make me think about thoughtfulness and how it goes a long way for one person to sustain the challenges in store for the day. A breakfast invitation or a coffee fix is a gesture inducing hope that tends to wear off as early as the first ray of the day, because that is how life seems like for some people. Thank you for always glancing my way, making sure the most important meal of the day is given justice, and supporting caffeine as essential to the survival of humankind. However, mornings are but memories kissed on a paper cup now. I guess I must be more thoughtful to myself without you having to do that for me anymore.

Sundays make me think about being alone and how it is good to people’s sanity. Eating alone, watching a random movie all by yourself, picking a pair of shoes with no on to consult whether it looks good on you or not, and walking up and down the escalator unaided, are just a few things that are a joy to do even if you have no one to share them with. Thank you for showing me how being alone does not have to be lonely, how routines can feel like the first time each passing time, and how solitary is but a physical illusion when it is the state of mind that tells of the many people you are living for and would be willing to die for, despite limitations in presence. However, I won’t be bumping into you enjoying your solitude in a crowded food court or store fronts anymore. I guess I must get used to the idea of being alone as you would find happiness with.

There would always be that “I never got the chance to say” part of every painful goodbye, so I would spare my aching heart from that kind of sadness and never say anything I could not tell you to your face because that is no longer possible. But what I do have is a chance to make mornings and Sundays like the were constant life lessons and reminders of everything you never would have known you have taught me. This chance, I can never thank you enough.

I will forever miss you, old man.