By Virginia J. Pasalo
Visiting friends
I took the earliest bus to visit some friends. The sun was still in hiding, the darkness made everything invisible except for the lights on the highway. It took less than three hours to my destination, but since it was dark, the driver can only approximate where he stopped. I got down near an elementary school, where the only lighted corner is a display of coffins in a funeral parlor. I felt the coffins on display moving, even if I avoided looking at them. I realized I missed the exact location where I was supposed to go, and there was no available transport in the wee hours of the morning. I felt the “ghosts to be” waiting in the coffins so I crossed the street, took a bus back to take me to the center of town and waited for daybreak.
It was a spur of the moment thing, unplanned, just packed a few things without even saying goodbye to the four dogs. I intended to surprise two friends, who always complained I never visited long enough for any meaningful conversation and bonding. I alighted in a gasoline station where, luckily, I was able to grab coffee, the one that you can sip without smelling the aroma, or tasting the coffee, because you’re just so glad the heat melted away your fears. I waited for an hour, watching the early risers display their goods. Then, I called.
“Hello, I’m at the gasoline station.”
“Oh, you’re here! Who’s dead?”
“Why do you presume that somebody is dead?
“No offense, but we see you only when somebody’s dead.”
This is a typical conversation I have with some of my friends whenever I visit them, that I arrive like the wind, and leave as fast, like a typhoon heading to a new destination. I know I arrived for some birthday celebrations, but they were few. I was told that more often, they listen to my eulogies. Of course not, I told myself, I also came for the weddings.
Now, I have more time. But that is not the main reason why I decided to visit them. The main reason is that life is shorter than we think, despite breakthroughs in longevity. Some of my younger friends, in their early fifties, have passed on ahead of me, for conditions that could have been avoided with lifestyle change. I miss them. Surprisingly, the older ones, all of them female, may yet reach 100. For the living, we must devote time, share our energies, share our light. We must strive to be happy, and spread it.