Time

This has been a difficult year. Bad news are far from being sparse. Quite on the opposite hand, in fact. Bad news seemed to be the only thing happening for the first half of this year. A seemingly endless succession of tragedies, one aiming to overcome the previous one in a blaze of glory.


It started with the worst thing it could possibly happen, and yet one of the most common things that can happen to anyone: death. I've lost someone extremely important, someone central to my life and to whom I own much of what I know and who I am today. It came out of nowhere, and was finished before anyone could even start to process what happened. At least it was fast.


Following that, a huge wave of chaos started to engulf my surroundings, so slowly that it only became apparent when it was too late. The small rituals scattered through the day slowly begun to fade. The afternoon coffee started to taste different, the noises in the house started to change, the colours that were once so common became less vibrant. The house became more silent, more empty. Time was striking, as it always do, but for the first time it took something I love.


It is hard to grasp when this sort of thing happens for the first time. Although my house was still there, as it stood for decades past and will remain for decades to come, my home was gone. In its place, a mere ghost, a pour depiction of things past, an afterimage of a scene long gone, that will become fainter overtime. For the first time I felt homeless, devoid of a safe heaven to regain my strength.


Change never felt so frightful, so unavoidable, so intense; and, yet, never felt so necessary. To live is to change, and not always when we chose so. Months after, and it still feels like a fresh wound. It may never heal completely, and will never be forgotten. The pain will always be there, for as long as I live. But out of that, of that sadness, of that sense of loss, good things are finally starting to grow. Companionship, respect, family. A new start.


Things will remain as they always do: changing. Not for the better, or for the worst, but turning to something different. And only the future may tell us how much.



Happy birthday grandma, and may your soul rest in peace.

Curitiba, November 2019.

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