From that one point in time, life and journey on we walked different paths. From the two of us, each would walk another way, quite possible in two different directions. That’s what life’s about, isn’t it? On a journey, sometimes paths cross and you decide to accompany a stranger for some time. You get to know him or her a bit during this time, but in the end, your paths will lead in different directions and you lose touch.
We walked a long way together but back then it seemed to be the time to split up and look for new companions. We have shared a lot of things. Joy, pain, laughter, tears, hardships… The two strangers we once were had become friends over the months and years.
A smile now meant more than just a gesture from someone you didn't know or barely knew. It now was a sign of affection, inerasably etched into your mind. You can never forget the person the smile belongs to, never forget the smile, never forget the look of tears in their eyes. You grew with the person.
When life has become a journey I cannot say. When living became a mixture of events and emotions is unknown to me. Things do happen without us knowing about them; they sneak into your way of thinking and then you can’t remember how it’s been without it.
Just the way it is with long time travel companions. You became so accustomed to your companion that you can’t imagine travelling without him or her and you don’t remember how it’s been before.
And then it happens without warning. A common path splits up and leads in two different directions. The reason isn’t even important, it just happens. And you have no idea where to either path leads. Maybe one of them has a dead end and the person walking this paths can’t sheer or return but has to stop at the dead end, meaning the person dies. You, the other traveller, will never know because you walk your own path. That’s what frightens me. Never knowing what happened to the person I once spent a lot of time with. It’s also unlikely that someone will tell you what happened; but if someone does you’re shocked and might even blame yourself because you could have done something to prevent it. But in the end, you can’t change it.
In the end, you never know what destiny is planning for you or what you even might be fated to see and experience. All you can do is whisper your very own farewell in your very own words and hope that life will not only be hardship from this point in time and journey on. The latter isn’t even important. The farewell is.
Looking back on my life now that death is near, I see this. I finally understand that it isn’t even important for the other to hear it. Now that death is as clear in front of my eyes as the moon crescent tonight, I understand. And I regret that I never whispered my farewell to our journey which, in retrospect, was the most important one in my life.
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