It's been an eventful day: doing the laundry, showing up for muay thai training, rushing a design revision for some friends' wedding invite, dropping by the office to copy some important files for the kids ministry (and unwittingly forgetting to unplug the flashdrive from the computer), downloading while eating/wasting (relatively) time at Burger King, traveling to Alabang, attending the YA fellowship there and of course the post-activity coffee and laughter, then finally off to my current residence in the metropolis.
As I walk home, I passed by a funeral tent pitched in a familiar eatery by my place. I wondered, who could have died there? Was it the scowling but nice lady who managed the place? Upon arriving at our street, I saw another tent: this time, for a birthday celebration - complete with the now-so-common/traditional videoke and bottomless-loaned liquor.
And here I am, honestly asking myself: who's waiting for me to come home?
Hence, after a long while, I write this blog.
Being a young adult, it has been both liberating yet difficult to enjoy my independence. I enjoy the rediscovered confidence in my opinions, the newfound cause and purpose, and of course, the limitless possibilities of my own chosen direction.
Limitless until I realized how short or unexpected life can turn out to be.
Will I enjoy a sunset at the porch holding someone at the golden years of my life?
Or will I spend my last breathe in a hospital bed?
Will I even be given the privilege of planning how I will face my last moments, much less prepare my own farewell speech or last poem, or even just confess to my crush(es)?
(Well, the last phrase was a joke.)
But more than these pointless worries, I am faced with a more pressing question: What memories will I be leaving behind for the ones I care about to remember?
What kind of legacy am I living?
I often get complimented and criticized for my frankness in stating my thoughts and opinions. But to be honest, I cannot say the same about my emotions. I confess that indeed, I also feel an unbearable sense of loneliness more frequently than I would usually admit. A deep longing to go back to my childhood as I remember happy family moments with my dear siblings and parents, a silent tear of mixed emotions as I reminisce long lost friendships and romance, and a melancholic realization that at the end of the day, nobody will be there to ask how my days was, or that I was missed, or that I had a home to go to.
(Yeaaaaa, so I'm the foreveralone guy incarnate. Thank God my landlady has pet cats around the house. But sincerely, a friendly dog would be preferable.)
Yet, I need to keep battling these emotions and overcome for one simple reason: God has tasked me to accomplish something. And like the warrior I envision myself to be, I have chosen to lay down my own self - my cares, my dreams, my desires, my burdens - so that I may please Him, my King, and hear Him say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant!"
And so for tonight, all I can do is sing: