I’ve been thinking a lot about the ordinary days, the ordinary moments when in a millisecond, everything we know and hold dear changes.
It’s Sunday, September 13th, 2015 at around 6 pm. I’m in the backseat with one of my friends, coming home from dinner and planning to head out again to a brewery for a couple of pints of a limited release brew
and then…
He’s passed away, his best friend said from the other end of the line
I couldn’t breathe. I remember clutching my heart in some irrational attempt to try and hold the pieces together. It could only be because my heart understood then what my head couldn’t: he was gone. Dead. The word was too strong for his friend to say, but I understood what he meant.
Or rather, at least my heart did.
It made no sense but explained everything then- the unanswered calls and texts over the last few days, the plans for the weekend he never got to make with me… That wasn’t like him.
It wasn’t like him to drop dead either.
just an ordinary Sunday
an ordinary day in the Fall
Life changes in an instant and it’s gone just as fast, too. I’m not sure what’s more terrifying to me now- the fragility of life or the destruction of death.
Paul has passed away, he said
And I stood outside under the falling leaves, clutching whoever and whatever I could as I tried to hold on to any sense of reality left in my world.
Just an ordinary Sunday
an ordinary day in the Fall
