The Sweet Sorrow

“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
– Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

The first few months were excruciating. Leaving the comfortable familiarity of my place was one of the most difficult choices I ever had to make in all my 22 years of existence. In my place, I had a life that was well suited to my character — a family that loved me, friends who laughed and cried to my jokes, and relatives who were supportive of my endeavors. In short, I was happy. I left all this because I believed I could be happier still. The spirit of adventure beckoned and I responded.

The first few months almost killed me. I missed those who loved me and those I loved, as evidenced by an endurable homesickness and depression. I missed everything about my place, from my afternoon hangouts to the routine discussions of issues at my aunt’s house. At the nadir of my depression, I realized that I even missed my own room. Those were the bleak moments.

The element of evanescence is an integral part of existence. If you paid any attention to your philosophy classes in college, you would remember this, and if you paid any attention to common sense you could confirm this. Living things, inanimate objects, the cosmos — all of these abide by the rule of the ephemeral, duration being an extremely flexible meter stick by which we measure time. A gadfly survives the slice of a single day, a mountain hunkers down for a hundred centuries, and the stars (as stars are wont to do) take their blessed time. But everything ends. Before anybody dares play the God gambit, allow me to capitulate and exempt the divine from the realm of mortality. I speak not of God but of His creation. The world abounds with the symptoms of this tendency to change, to cease existing as is, and to evolve into something different. Nature demands that its denizens evolve; natural selection is the Machiavellian way by which life selects its generation. Science, technology, architecture and art are concepts in motion, forever redefining a dynamic environment. Human beings, acting as both catalyst and being catalyzed, are probably the best examples of the inevitable, and the necessary function of change. Within one lifetime, we undergo a veritable onslaught against the status quo. We take leave our parents to challenge the world as adults, we sift through partners and peers as our needs mature, we acquire new skills and apply for alternative employment in the hopes of attaining satisfaction, and sometimes we relocate to foreign territories. We are a kinetic species. But if change is all good and natural, why does it hurt so much?

Everybody at some point in his life has had to confront a major change. In my case, several drastic upheavals have contributed to the motley equation that is my current personality. Leaving home for Manila was just one example. Changing my self and my perspectives, and adapting into a new lifestyle was another; but the most painful experiences I have ever endured involved saying goodbye to important people in my life, knowing I may never see them again. My lifestyle in Manila has provided me ample opportunity and time to meet some incredible characters, beautiful folks who have contributed generously to my world perspective: Jerome or Sabumnim, as we respectfully called him at our Tae Kwon Do lesson, from Seoul, Korea, who did nothing but make you laugh to your death with his green jokes; Nico or Nicholas, the French volunteer, who at first keeps silent and just listens attentively to our discussions, but would suddenly spoke sarcastically whenever he catches a word which seemed to be alien to him; Marlyn, Marissa and Ronnie, the Fil-Am (Filipino- American) nomads from San Francisco, California, who have explored more of this planet that is good for them — Marlyn, the energetic one who wears flamboyant accessories during our Tae Kwon Do lessons with Sabumnim and even during our outings to places like Baguio, Mindoro and Tabuk, Kalinga Apayao; Marissa, the vegetarian who eats bulks of salad at Subway and Mexicali Restaurants, and who likes nothing better than a savage debate on everything; and Ronnie, the new guy in town who still manages to flash his Close-Up smile even during times of hardship and who will haggle for anything even exchanging his own happiness for good friends. These are but a few of the unforgettable portraits that hang in the museum of my memory.

They say that you can know a person by the company he/she keeps — these people flatter my reputation. And accepting their eventual departure was an exercise in sorrow. Our final dinner and coffee at the café, the last sight before the sun sets to its final rest, the swan song smile as a friend disappears behind airport security, these salutations sear beyond the physical. The possibility that there might not be a second chance always leaves me heartbroken.

The pain is selfish for the same reason I fall in love or patronize a café, or rabidly consume Danielle Steel and John Grisham novels. I want these people to remain in my life because they make me feel good. Like a forsaken lover, I am envious of their present company, wherever they are. I have always promised to keep in touch, tried to save money for the eventual visit, to linger on the nostalgia, and to bolster my confidence by regularly reminding myself “we had something special”. The void is deeper than Jack Nicholson’s pockets, being the Hollywood’s highest paid actor.

This has happened many times before and it doesn’t get any easier. Changing lifestyles, meeting and leaving people, it always results in heartache. So why do I do it? Why not just stay in one place, keep a steady job, and restrict my acquaintances to my current demographic?

Simply because I cannot. Humans have come a long way from etching on cavern walls, but I feel my personal evolution has only begun. One day, I hope to settle into a more consistent mode of living, but for now I pursue my Darwinian instinct. The desire to experience the world is of a reciprocal nature. I need to travel, because I have so much of the Philippines to share. I need to try out other things, because only then can I appreciate my present circumstances. I need to meet new people and hear their mythos, because I have stories of my own to share. To trade recipes, compare cultural traditions, debate religion, and concur on the incompetence of our governments — interaction is a conduit that is mutually beneficial.

The pain of separation is necessary. There is no way to avoid it. But I guess it is all a matter of perspective. If the experience is genuine, then it will survive the rigors of time and distance. The people I have met will reside in the beaches and cafes of my memory, the places I have cherished will be stamped on the communal passport of all travelers, and the things that I have done will acquire permanence in my future achievements. In a sense, I will just take these experiences with me.

With that out of the way, I can stop worrying about my departures, and start focusing on my arrival, INSHA ALLAH!