Friday nights aren’t the same without you. I remember those cold nights. Even if you’re tired, you would still open the gate, listened, and prepared some coffee. You looked directly into our eyes and gave us comfort because you knew that we were confused and lonely.
You were so tough yet funny. Your advice was so hard and seemed impossible. But you knew very well that it was the right thing. I remember one Friday night after our work, we knocked into your office and complained about “adulthood.” You just continued your work, went to the kitchen, and cooked dinner. The aroma of the coffee weighed down our moods. We ate and burped. After a while, you sat with us, prayed for us, and we had a serious talk. Then, you accompanied us on our way home.
There were many times that I complained to you, get mad at you, and cried because of you. You knew me very well. But you always remind me that I should be courageous in dealing with life’s challenges. You always trust me more than I trust myself. You allowed me to do things that are beyond my capabilities. You showed up whenever you could.
I was not ready to see you in pain. You were at heaven’s gate in just a blink of an eye. I didn’t know what to do, my heart was thudding too loud in my chest asking God if it was the end of your journey.
Until now, I couldn’t believe that you were not with us.
Yesterday, I went back to our dwelling place.
The weather was gloomy, I looked outside and the gates were locked. The mood was different. I missed the aroma of your coffee, our deep conversation, and your sincere care for us.
I realized that time kept pressing and our loved ones would constantly go and leave us. But memories would still linger around and you’ll learn to live without them. I turned back and moved forward.
Friday nights, it wouldn’t be the same as before. Yet, the lessons that you impart remain inside my heart.
Thank you, pastor- for being a father, friend, and mentor.