Met The Prof. over the supper and talked over all. My Christmas, his, my New Year, his, my family, his, my heath, his, my financial situation, his, life and death or should I say, dying. The food was good, and the conversation was charged, but like always, very intriguing. He has this cutting through eyes to penetrate things, I told him that reminds me of my dad (I told the same to my dad). Perhaps it is a gift one can only get from the stretched time of solitude where he/she can pour out one's whole energy into a subject of interest. In return, they have to pay for a price, the price of loneliness. It must've been hard to bear even for someone like him or my dad. I saw tears in his eyes. I never expected I would see that. Tears of a waling man who was once tall and proud were surreal. I was selfish. I held his hands and felt puzzled if this means I am no longer able to cry for advice or help from him anymore, and if this means it would be MY turn to lend my shoulders to the others. Then I began wondering if I ever am ready for such a role.
Feeling the emotionally charged shadow sitting down on his face, I thought of the end. Experiencing deaths in the proximity over the past couple of years, I become aware when it approachs. Perhaps because he kept mentioning it over the dinner?
I felt responsible. Resonsible for now carrying some of his worries instead of inviting him to mine, and responsible for providing guidance to him/the others instead of asking one from them. However, the same questions lingered; AM I READY?? And at the end of my days, how would I want to be remembered? What legacy would I want to leave? What kind of people would I want to be surrounded by at my death bed? How much of the property do I want to leave behind to whom? How do I want to claim my life was like in front of the God? Would I be able to say to him, "I followed you alright, I completed the tasks you've given to me, and I am content to leave me in your hands?"
I am too small yet.
