As the early morning sun painted the sky with hues of gold and pink, I sat alone at my favourite corner table by the window, in the quaint coffee shop on my street. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped me, comforting me like an old friend. I clutched the warm ceramic mug, savouring the rich, earthy flavour with each sip.
It had been a year since I had lost my dad to a sudden illness, or so I thought up until I got home to find the story different. For a year, grief had become my silent companion, tugging at my soul and extracting tears to satisfy its hideous thirst.
And that day being his memorial, I found myself reminiscing about the countless mornings we had spent there together, sipping coffee and and nodding to the sweet melodies of gospel hymns oozing from his ancient radio which had become some sort of family memento.
As I stared out the window, lost in thought, a voice interrupted my thoughts and snapped me out of my reverie.
"May I join you?" a sweet feminine voice asked, her smile warm and friendly. I simply nodded, still contemplating the mission and vision of the fair one who has found it meaningful to join a lost and weary soul while she settled into the seat across from me.
"I'm Rachel," she introduced herself. "Sorry to bother you, but all the good tables are already taken?" still wearing the same infectious smile
"It's okay. I just hope you don't have a jealous boyfriend lurking around" I replied. She chuckled "By the way, I'm Victor" I added
I don't know how it started, but the conversation was seamless and enjoyable. Her eyes sparkled with hope with every smile, her lips were a cup of wisdom and warmth, while her ears seemed like a drum large enough to entertain whatever found its way from my heavy heart to my lips. I couldn't help but tell her about about my dad, the memories we had created, and how we used to frequent the coffee shop.
Rachel listened intently, her eyes filled with empathy and hope.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said softly, almost teary, and then narrated her own ordeal some years back after losing her mom. It was a rare but beautiful moment for me to be able to so connect and open up to a total stranger, but it felt comforting and satisfying.
We could barely keep track of time as we continued talking, finding comfort in our shared conversations and stories. I felt a sense of connection I hadn't experienced in a long time. Rachel, having experienced loss and understood the depths of grief, made it a point of duty to convert my sad, lonely time into a comedy show.
We laughed, we cried, and shared stories of our loved ones. With each word exchanged, the weight of my grief seemed to lighten. If I hadn't known better, I would have said that I was in love because the emptiness that had continuously gnawed at my heart seemed to have evaporated into the atmosphere along with the vapour of the steaming coffee that watered our throats and made sure that our lips never ran dry. And that was when I realized that, while I could never replace what I had lost, there was room in my heart for new connections and moments of joy.
And as the sun dipped below the horizon, receding beyond view and casting long shadows across the coffee shop, I felt a profound shift within me as I kept staring into the melody of Rachel's face. The coffee, once a link to my past with my dad, had now become a healing café filled with unexpected connections and newfound resilience.
With a smile, I thanked Rachel for the conversation that had helped me heal a little more that day. We exchanged contact information, promising to meet again soon.
And since that day, I and Rachel have become close friends, sharing countless cups of coffee at the window table of the café, usually reminiscing about the events of that day with smiling faces and muffled giggles. She has become a special piece in my life's wheels, helping roll along in the deep of this unpredictable life.
But I have vowed to be a constant pain in her bumbum for as long as we stay friends, which I predict might be forever.
PS: Based on a true story