Glass bridge
“Hello…
How are you doing?
I hope you’re feeling better now. I know healthcare is expensive, but focus on your recovery. God will make provision for us in due time.
Oh, good news!
I did some research on medical insurance. I talked to a few people, and they said you qualify. You see? God is good.”
That was the last message I sent.
I spent hours staring at my phone, waiting for the tick to turn blue. You always replied within minutes, even when you weren’t supposed to be using your phone. You never left me hanging.
You didn’t leave me when I was failing mathematics in school, or when I got into fights and ended up suspended. You were always the one who came to pick me up, even on a busy workday.
There are a couple of things I’ve wanted to tell you.
I bought my first bicycle last month.
It was difficult to learn at first, mainly because I didn’t have anyone telling me when to place my feet on the pedals before pushing off. So I practiced over and over again. I fell many times. I even scraped my knee against the pavement, but it has healed now.
Fast forward to today, and I can ride effortlessly.
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This was something that hung over my head for years. I saw children riding bicycles all the time, and a part of me felt jealous. Not anymore.
I faced that challenge head on, just like you taught me.
Since you left, I have pushed through many obstacles in my relatively short life alone, with little guidance and even less wisdom. I don’t think anyone around me will ever fully understand what that feels like.
You left just before I could learn how to become a better man, or at least a good one.
Without you, I don’t know what that truly means. Now I’m left with social media’s interpretation of manhood — how I should behave, what I should value, and how I should treat others.
No day has truly made sense since you left.
It’s as if the world forgot and simply kept moving.
I carry your memory everywhere. Your face exists only in my thoughts now, because the more questions I ask about the man you were, the fewer answers I receive.
Sometimes I hate that I didn’t leave when you did.
When arguments arise and anger consumes me, I know there is no one left who would take my side the way you would. In those moments, I imagine following you across the glass bridge to heaven, finding peace beyond these earthly burdens.
I grow tired of pain. Tired of love. Tired of suffering. Somewhere along the way, they all became intertwined.
Nevertheless, I will remain strong.
For the people you left behind, I will be there.
Thank you for teaching me virtue, character, and hard work. Thank you for being the greatest role model I could have asked for, both in life and in memory.
Cheers.
