I Wrote a Note to a Dead Man: Who's Going to Read It?

Carpe Diem

In remembrance of my father, who passed away on May 5th, 2021.

That summer, I found myself in Croatia, seeking solace amidst the pain of my father's passing, unable to attend his funeral due to the constraints of being a refugee and unable to return to my country of origin. It was a somber period for me, filled with grief and brief sparks of joy.

While wandering the streets of Cavtat, a small town, I stumbled upon a restaurant adorned with framed photos of Luka Modric, the captain of the Croatian Soccer team. Intrigued, I stood there gazing at the other stars on display and was greeted by the server.

He wanted me to eat at his restaurant, unwilling to commit and figure a nice way to dismiss him. I made an unusual request, asking the server to retrieve a lobster from the aquarium outside the restaurant as a condition for me to dine there. To my surprise, he obliged, demonstrating a commitment to customer satisfaction that bordered on artistry.

Over time, the restaurant server became more than just a host; he became a friend. I eventually chose to celebrate my birthday dinner at his establishment, a decision that cemented our bond at the time.

As I reflect on that period of my life, I am reminded of the unexpected connections we form in times of sorrow and the kindness that can emerge from the most unlikely of places.

A conundrum of memory

I’m comforted by my sadness.

In my naïveté, I tried to replace you with Joy,

I was afraid of the void,

I felt it would be like the empty vase,

No flowers to fill it,

Afraid of the fragility,

It won’t crack if I Ignored it,

Oh, I’m in lost.

My body yearn for fat,

Daddy died of fat, sugar, and stubbornness,

Sorrow feels completely healthy,

You need no degree to understand it,

You need no friends to dwell and merry in it.

It’s me! I scream, it’s me!