THE GREATEST MAGICIANS have something to learn from Mr. Mistoffelees’ Conjuring Turn – PRESTO! There’s a grief that can’t be spoken—there’s a pain goes on and on. Empty chairs at empty tables, where my friends will sing no more. 

Endings are a wonder to behold. For one, they have this ability to tie the knots altogether, making every intricacy completely certain. And yet, we are left with this lingering painful feeling of what comes next—another uncertainty waiting to unfold.  

“And I’m envious that those chairs and tables will forever be oblivious of the fact that they are empty.”

I’m left standing alone, witnessing the sight of empty chairs at empty tables. The serenity in the room is poetry manifesting itself, creating an illusion of time at a standstill. It hypnotizes you, tricks you into thinking that, amid the helplessness of life, you are in control.  

But ironically, that same deafening silence present within wakes us up to the cruel reality of being alone, standing on a precipice, waiting to inevitably fall. People told me that we were “meant to change,” but you know what? They left out the part of how heartbreaking it is.   

I’m envious of those empty chairs at empty tables. I’m envious that, despite the changes of life, they’d remain unflinching. I’m envious that, even in utter silence, they are alone together. I’m envious that marked on those very chairs and tables are the memories of how I expressed my love, joy, and sadness to the people I may never get a chance to sit down with. And I’m envious that those chairs and tables will forever be oblivious of the fact that they are empty.  

It’s hard to find a silver-lining in grief. When people go, they’d give out their two cents and declare “think only of the happy memories.” How on earth is that of any help? Yes, they’re happy memories, but they’re also painful constant reminders of how those events will simply exist in our heart. In fact, those memories also have this tendency to make us regret what we did, leaving us helplessly pondering what we could have done. It’s a magnificent cycle of regrets and sorrows, and there’s nothing we can do, except embrace it. 

As we enter a new chapter of life full of various changes, we must accept that we will never become our past selves no matter how hard we try. When people enter our lives, they change us; and when they leave, they’ll also take a part of ourselves that is unretrievable—parting ways with the past, per se. And when all is said and done, we are left with dilemmas of “what comes next?” and “who am I without you?” 

As such, we must accept that a part of us is gone, and therefore go on living in pursuit of finding happiness amid the scars that’ll forever leave a mark. Live. Life is a library. While the pain is still there, we must embrace that reality and continue to find ourselves in another book; for in this amazing quest, maybe one day we’ll also be oblivious of our emptiness; and before you know it, those empty chairs at empty tables will finally be full once again. 

For my last opinion article this Academic Year, 2023-2024, I dedicate it to my graduating friends from The Bedan. To my greatest mentors from the Editorial Board—Paul, Anne, Daphne, Phoebus, and Alvin—I am frightened of what will become of the publication without all of you, but I promise that the ideals and legacies you have left behind are more than enough for us to continue a lionhearted kind of service. I am honored to have stood alongside you, and I am certain that you’ll reach greater heights in the days moving forward. I will miss you. To my friends and colleagues—Zia, Paolo, Jury, Kathy, Jannine, and Vida—I take pride over the fact that I have worked with you. Goodluck in your future endeavors.  

And finally, I dedicate this opinion article to my late paternal lola. There will never be a moment where I won’t think of you. Fly to the bosom of God and be comforted over this promise that we will be okay. I love you so much, our full-time angel! Fly in eight eights towards Home.  

Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees? 

Email me at thebedan_associateeditor@sanbeda.edu.ph