It was a day of irony and paradox, sadness and joy. So much
yet little, in one solitary day. I enjoyed the freedoms of my first
morning of solitude; then felt the absence of father now far away. I
beheld a birth announcement of my former boss’ third child; then
heard the news of a good friend having lost his dear mother a day
before. I found myself swimming in a sea of exhilaration, having just
sent my first book proposal to a prospective publisher; then heard the
sad tale of a new friend’s professional hopes swept away in the
current of misfortune. And I thought of a good man named Joe,
mourning two parents both lost within one month, while I was
spending the winter in the sun and the sand and the sea.

It was a day of contradictions. Such a great moment for
personal ambitions, yet such a sad time for those I know and care. So
I went to the coffee shop alone, with my new friend Kahlil Gibran, to
exude happiness, and unleash silent tears of compassion.

I ordered a double espresso and sat outside, staring at another
magnificent sunset, a myriad of colors and clouds and majesty in the
evening sky. Then I looked down upon the maze of asphalt and
concrete, with cars speeding and beeping, contesting for parking
spaces, and the masses walking lost in thought, with their heads bent
down to the concrete below. And I asked my friend Kahlil, “We have
so much and need so little. We live in Paradise yet sometimes see
Hell. How can people not even stop for a moment, to glance and
smile, at the beauty around, and wonder above?”

“We cling to the earth, while the gate of the Heart of the Lord
stands wide open,” my friend said to me. “We trample upon the bread
of Life, while hunger gnaws at our hearts. How good is Life to Man;
yet how far removed is Man from Life.”

I took a sip of my espresso, and I thought about this day. I felt
proud of my professional accomplishment, minutes earlier having
sent a manuscript to a publisher, a gateway to a new future; yet
looked back with longing at the job I once had and the people I still
knew, and some work there still wanting to be done, still not allowed
to do. I smiled at the joy being felt by my former boss and his new
child, yet was saddened by the losses of so many in such a brief
moment of time. Great joy and deep sadness, both waging a major
battle to take control of the day. Why such paradox, I mused.

Then Kahlil answered with allegory: “Is not the cup that holds
your wine the very same cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was
hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into your
heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that
is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart,
and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has
been your delight.”

My thoughts shifted to those of friends once embracing love,
now suffering the tragic pain of loss. And I looked at the dying sun in
the deep red sky that had brought such a glorious day, and felt a
loving breeze whisper gently in my ear.

“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt
into the sun?” he said. “And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and
seek God unencumbered?”

And thinking of the sadness felt, and the emptiness that now
filled the vacuum of their hearts, from those at the wake I was
present, and those with funerals still to attend, my voice was
speechless, but my thoughts not. Death is nothing but a doorway to
another enchanting world, I always knew, but knew not how to speak
such words to solace those I wished to comfort.

Then Kahlil said, “Mayhap a funeral among men is a wedding
feast among the angels.”
And I smiled, knowing such to be true. For all that lives, lives
forever: the spirit is without end.
Then Kahlil added, “The reality of Life is Life itself, whose
beginning is not in the womb, and whose ending is not in the grave.
For the years that pass are naught but a moment in eternal life; and
the world of matter and all in it is but a dream compared to the
awakening which we call the terror of Death.”
I finished my espresso, and smiled through a tear. And Kahlil
spoke once more:
“Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed
sing.
“And when you reach the mountain top, then you shall begin to
climb.
“And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly
dance.”

Oh how I wish Kahlil could be with those who needed him right
now more than I needed him, those whose tears at this moment filled
a deeper well than mine.

I finished my espresso as Kahlil said goodbye. He spoke his
final words, and he spoke for all of us; for the friends who parted
ways, for the lovers who lost love’s embrace, for the dreamers with
mislaid dreams, for the parents who lost children, and for the children
who lost mothers and fathers. And he spoke with conviction, and
assuredness, and a promise for love tomorrow. And he spoke for all
who were departed.

“Forget not that I shall come back to you. A little while, and my
longing shall gather dust and foam for another body. A little while, a
moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me.
“Farewell to you and the youth I have spent with you. It was but
yesterday we met in a dream…”