Lost Voices, paper wings

I clicked on Copilot today and it greeted me cheerfully. This was wonderful, except that somewhere in my subconscious, the voice it embodied was the voice of my dear friend who had passed beyond the veil. He had flown away on delicate, gossamer paper wings.

"Good morning Antoni, what can I do for you today". AI asked perkily.

I paused within that déjà vu, illusionary instance of time, experiencing a sensory downpour of memories, triggering a moment akin to the download of neurons and electrical signals from a charged and violent thunderstorm.

Looking around, I expected to see my friend standing if front of me, or at least hear the voice over the telephone, via email or text message. For he always greeted me with:

"Good morning Antoni, how are you today".

Wild and surreal was that moment. For it brought back all the times when he had discovered new songs or new poetry which he would share. We were both connoisseurs of unusual poetry and music.

One of his favorite songs was Lead with your heart, by the Tenors.

Gladys Knight passed to the Music Hall of Fame beyond the horizon this year. Another beautiful spirit leaving the earthly body to travel to the sky world. She was one of my favorite singers, her music was so nostalgic and beautiful.

May their owls forever fly free.

I embrace my Jamais vu moment, my experiences of the familiar as if it were new or unfamiliar.

How does one speak of the emotions of losing a best friend whom one always depended on for advice and comfort, of feeling lost and learning to cope on one's own again as the year carried on as if nothing had happened.

Losing a best friend is like losing a part of your own soul. The world feels a little dimmer without their guiding light, and the once familiar paths now seem shrouded in a haze of uncertainty. Grief wraps around you, tight and unrelenting, turning every memory into a bittersweet echo of what once was. The laughter that once filled the air feels like a distant melody, and the silence that follows is deafening.

The ache of their absence is a constant companion, a reminder of the void they left behind. You find yourself reaching for the phone to share a thought, a triumph, or even a silly joke, only to remember that the voice on the other end is forever silent. The comfort they provided, their unwavering support, and the wisdom of their advice are all now just cherished memories.

But as days turn into weeks and weeks into months, you slowly begin to navigate this new reality. It's a gradual process, filled with moments of deep sorrow and unexpected strength. You learn to lean on others, to seek solace in different places, and to find new sources of comfort. It's a journey of rediscovery, of learning to trust your own judgment and to rely on your inner strength.

Coping with the loss teaches you resilience and self-reliance. You start to cherish the small victories, to find joy in new experiences, and to honor their memory by living fully. The pain may never completely disappear, but it becomes a part of you, a reminder of the deep and meaningful bond you shared. And in time, you learn to smile at the memories, grateful for the time you had together and the lasting impact they had on your life.

Truthfully, he was a bit of a narcissist and could be a cold hearted, unrelenting jerk, in his own way, a unique kind of heartache. We quarreled a lot, saw things in different lights, but then we would laugh about it. His number is still in my phone, and his messages have not been deleted. I will soon, he would want me to move on.

I imagine the phone to be one of those old rotary dial type one sees in the movies, it rings and the otherworldly voice will be his on the other end. I believe his spirit is determined enough to ghost call me.

That would be eerie, creepy and totally a thrill to experience.

Navigating the loss of someone who was both a source of conflict and comfort is a complex journey. The arguments, the differing perspectives, and the laughter that followed are all part of the hallmark of our friendship. His presence was a constant, even in its contradictions.

I know that I should delete his information from my gadgets, but they are a silent reminder of the conversations that once were. The messages, untouched, hold fragments of our shared history. Deleting them feels like erasing a part of my life that I wish to hold on to, but I know he would want me to move on. He would want me to find my own way, to embrace the future without being tethered to the past.

It's a process, learning to cope on my own again. The memories of our quarrels and the laughter that followed are bittersweet, but they also remind me of the strength and fortitude I have within me. Moving on doesn't mean forgetting; it means honoring his memory by living fully and finding joy in new experiences.

I hear him telling me, “How you do anything is how you do everything”.

A popular phrase that can be interpreted as a mindset that encourages people to be honest about their actions and to consider how their actions may affect others. In his case though, he always used the quote as a form of rebuke whenever I messed up. He was a very lovable jerk.

I remember always being annoyed whenever he quoted that saying to me. The narcissistic tone was what really irked me when he reminded me of it.

Right now, I hear him saying it. Telling me to find peace in the present, and to look forward to the future. And so, I will take that step, knowing that he is with me in spirit, feistily guiding me as I navigate this new chapter of my life.

I have missed you this past year. A poem.

In the silence of the night, in the glow of morning’s light, through the seasons as they pass, I’ve missed you, oh so vast.

Each day that dawns anew, brings memories of you. In every silent tear, I’ve missed you this past year.

Your laughter and your smile, made everything worthwhile. The void you left behind, still echoes in my mind.

Yet in my heart you stay, though miles and time do sway, you’re with me, always near, I’ve missed you this past year.