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| (image courtesy of www.flickr.com/photos/) 1. They destroyed my lifelong friends’ letters. 2. They destroyed my lifelong friends’ letters 3. They destroyed my lifelong friends’ letters. |
My friend expressed
her lamentation the other day. She visited her container of friends’ letters
collectively from way back elementary, high school and by trickle, college and
how she wished that the world is not as technologically savvy as it is now so
that friends could still “traditionally” write each other: in longhand penmanship,
with much care in self-preferred stationery. She was bitten by nostalgia bug. I
understood.
At that moment, I
was staring at a blank air space next to her face, not because I have the same
sentiment, well almost, but because I bitterly remember the tragic fate of my
beloved friends’ letters. It was so tragic and utterly painful that I was not
able to share it to anybody. My family is a silent witness to the pure
devastation:
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| (image courtesy of www.flickr.com/photos/) |
One unsuspecting
rest-day afternoon, my brother presented to me a familiar plastic bag, his face
was serious. Then, it dawned to me, it houses some of my friends’ letters from
the happy past: elementary, high school, college and beyond. I had the inclination of what happened. I laid the bag on the ground, and slowly shook it
of bringing the papers out. No matter how slowly or safely I handled the bag
and its content doesn’t matter anymore. I’m way too late -- My letters. No, my
precious letters. No, it’s not the letter, it’s the testimonials that is IN the
letters. No, it’s the MEMORIES. There you go, I poured it out. The memories of
the wonderful yesteryears, the memento of the great relationships I had with
wonderful people. I kept them with all care in my heart and in our room -- in
few days unknown to me, just a fraction of time as compared to how long I
treasured them, destruction came to them in the form of tiny but merciless
creature – the termites.
“Darn them!” But
I couldn’t even remember I cursed those creatures as I was overly soaked by
what happened. A submissive, heaven-thrust whine was instead what I heard, “can
we bring them back, please? Can we bring them back.” The mind took over, “there
is no sense crying over a spilt milk.” For a moment I thought of sharing this
on my facebook wall. Nope, I never shared something unless I’m 100 per cent
sure I’m ready for the whole world to see it. Maybe I could just write a
message to those friends who sent me those letters, no matter how long. Maybe
they could replace the letters. Nah, it’s impossible to replicate it.”
I never really
have much accomplishment in my life, and if I do, I don’t brag about them, at
least not in my conscious self; not the medals, not the trophies, not the certificates,
not any dust-gatherer thingamajig. But these letters? they will tell a lot about the person
who received it—me and the person who sent them, my friend/s! One big (about 1.5
by 2 whole rulers) and one small paper bags full of much-thought of letters,
notes with bible and friend quotations, hand-made keepsakes, all created,
designed and weaved with sheer love in the name of friendship. I love my
friends, and here are physical remembrances of them. My friends who have been
God’s gifts, representatives of heaven, always sent in times when I needed them
most. They are a reminder that life is beautiful, an obelisk of God’s awesome
love to me.
I shook my head
off. Oh yes, my friend was telling me about her lamentations. I couldn’t still take
my mind off what happened. Despite of the tragic fate, pathetic fragments, a
bitter trace of what happened, were still left. Yes, like the 9-11 rubbles.
Whatever little that is left, I lay them carefully on a recycled bond paper.
They are so devastated that look like they can be housed on an enclosed glass
casing ala-museum anytime. They can
be labelled, “fragments of an DJ’s friends’ letter. Family says she was devastated
with what happened.” Sigh. I could no longer pull out the letters anytime and
read it in random. Oh that nostalgic act. Darn Termites!
I guess that only
proves that your best treasure is not actually the physical things. All the
memories? They are still in my heart. The people? They are still there. I could
virtually poke them anytime. The relationship? Awesome. And the love I felt
from and with them? Priceless. No amount or mounds of termite could take it
away from me.
“Do not store up treasure for yourself here
on earth where moth and rust destroy it, and where thieves can steal it. For where your treasure is, there also your
heart will be.”
-Matthew 6:20-21
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