The Art of Letting Go

I received a text message from my buddy last Thursday that due to his continuing medication he is prompted to fly back to the US this Tuesday.

My initial reaction was shock because I have no idea that his situation was more serious than I thought. And the realization that I may not see him again sinks in after I agreed to meet him last Saturday.

Hippie John, as I fondly called him is one of the best people I’ve met so far. We came from two different races and life backgrounds but somehow all the differences transcends into one meaningful friendship. We’re both travelers coming from two sets of road but along the way, the two roads met.

He is a sport junkie and I am an art enthusiast; he is the outgoing dude and I am the introspective one. The differences could go on but that doesn’t deter our friendship to mold into something that suits us completely. We’ve complemented what the other lacks and in return we’re like two people with one mind and one soul.

Last Saturday was bittersweet; after hanging out with him and a couple of his Peace Corps volunteer friends, time dictates that I must bid him my goodbye. I’m sad that he is going away with the big probability of him not coming back but I am happy as well that he will be treated with utmost beneficence.

We’ve never had the chance to talk alone but I know that there must be words to be said…words that could justify the longing that is yet to happen. But as part of the male specie, we just jokingly hit each other’s arm saying we’re going to miss each other and man, I am going to miss that fart.

I signaled the group that the night is over for me and I merely offered my handshake to John but he declined with a smirk on his face telling me implicitly that the night is still young. But he stood up and ushered me outside the bar where we were hanging out. I felt so awkward because darn it, I hate saying goodbye. I mumbled a God bless you-you take care-see you soon mantra but I am conscious that a lump was forming in my throat. I sensed that he feels the same way but as a man, we just shrugged it off. We hugged tightly knowing that this maybe the last time we’ve crossed the same path. After we let go and I stepped a couple of strides, I look back and yelled that I will wait for his return. He just smiled and nod.

As I sat on the jeepney going home, I couldn’t comprehend the mixed emotions that were going on inside me. It’s like having to say goodbye all over again to my brothers when they went abroad to work. The lump in the throat took hold of its permanence but I don’t like to shed tears because it’s not a manly thing to do. Instead I put the feeling of lost inside my heart, tightened it with the feeling of security and hope that maybe, this is not the end but just the beginning.

I know that eventually he will return to his country but this was so sudden that I could not muster the courage to reckon that this is all but real. Through him I realized how it feels like to have a “friend” in all its essence. Through him, I’ve discovered what the Bible pointed out when it speaks about a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

And through him, where once a personal journey, someone comes along and say “Going that way…can I join you!”

To you bud, as we always say in our text messages, ingatz lagi.

Hope to bump into you…soon.