Where is the moment when everything changes? You are just streaming across the sky, and suddenly, Boom! Oblivion. We watch the days pass by from our little prison cell of our own making. The little habits and idiosyncrasies that we long to break free of. Little do we know, today, these cease.
Does the coffee taste different? Does the air feel different when leaving the house? Is it just a day like any other day? Sometimes, lines intersect in hours; other times, more than 50 years. I cannot help but think about a glassy-eyed Paul, expressing with frustration, "And then there were two."
Was she happy? Was she sad? Was she just lost in the distraction that the winter days write into our story as our hearts cry for seasonable days that make our infirmities feel small? He walks into the kitchen from the shop 41 steps away, weary from the years of standing under dripping, cold, and rusted problems that he can overcome for a price, but it is never enough. What else is there? He does not know.
She wraps her arms around him and makes him feel as important as she knows he is. He was made for her, which is enough for him because she was made for him.
What happened next, I do not know and probably never will. It is not my place to know but a stark reminder to appreciate what you have. In a moment, he was alone, forever. The pain that he was feeling was unimaginable because he had been right where he always wanted to be. But now, that was no longer possible.
I know why he did what he did, though I would never understand it, even if it was me. The contrast between going to sleep in one world and waking up in a completely different one many of us could never endure. Although I have seen people who I thought could never survive, they climbed to the top of grief itself, and they claimed their loss with incredible decisiveness for the honor of who they loved.
I was not sure where he was going to land this time. My guess was that he would possess great strength, and although it would play out like some twisted gauntlet, he would get through. But then, we learned that we were wrong. We found out that their love was stronger than every other option, and in that, it was the best thing there ever was. It, too, was the worst thing there ever was.
I sit silently while a year has gone by. I have not made kimchi at all since before your last day. You always loved it when I did; somehow, the two have a connection thanks to my associative memory. I know that I will have to do it someday. I am strong in my own right, and that only has to do with who I am and no one else. I am sad because your whole existence was wiped off the surface of the world in a moment. It does not seem fair. I will honor you. I will honor the love that you had for her. It was a certain kind of love that could not continue without all of its pieces. I get it. A year later, I am still stunned.
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