October 15
The day you fear as your last is the birthday of eternity.
Letters to Lucilius, Letter 102
Listening mode
The day you fear as your last is the birthday of eternity.
A last breakfast together may have been an entirely ordinary one. You reached for the bread, asked again about something you had only half heard, cleared the table afterwards. No one knew that this repetition would not be followed by another.
When you think back on it, you may wish you remembered more: the exact words, a glance, the light in the room. In hindsight the moment is given a task it was not prepared for. It is supposed to speak for the whole relationship.
Yet its ordinariness was very much part of that relationship's familiarity. You did not have to hold on to every gesture, because you were counting on more mornings. The missing details are not gaps in your affection. You were there, at the same table, without already viewing the encounter from the distance of its end.
