Lamentations of an Imaginary Past

With great uncertainty, I do not know why at this time of day I am feeling this surge of lament and regret, of losing what really is not lost at all, and having a staredown with the bed, when I should be sleeping and getting ready for the next day.

To wit, you, my dear friend, are departing from our shared soil for some reason I do not dare question for it is not my affair at all. Yet, this sense of loss weighs on me right now at the very least, a yoke that came on just now, saddling me with the emptiness of ‘what-could-have-been’ questions. There is a spacious void that begs to be filled with a fulfillment that comes with sharing even just a humble slice of our lives, and even though this day’s technology has tried its best to approximate and shrink the vast swaths of miles between people, there is absolutely no substitute to the immediate manifestation of your presence. None. Not at all. The world may try to vanquish such tears and spaces, but all it provides is a temporary salve, hoping that we will forget the distance. But we do not forget easily.

For those who do not forget easily, and yet carry lamentations more significant than the ones I have, your impending absence is excruciating. Memories and questions alike flood our minds, while we try to sort out what they want to hold on to. While this exercise is sorely futile in the face of destiny marching on as it reaps its harvest, we still try to not let go, to cherish what has gone by, and to only be mortified at the erasure of the futures we have imagined.

Now, though, we are confronted with this – your departure. And in the face of this helplessness, we wish you a spate of abundance the Lord will surely provide you.

Grudgingly (but not by any fault of your own, or your kin), we say farewell. With a more resolute force of hope, we say ‘see you someday.’


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