WKD

Did you know that the world celebrated World Kindness Day just a few days ago? If you did, did you make an extra effort to be kind, kinder, or kindest that day? Or maybe you simply acknowledged the kindness of others -which is also a form of kindness. As for me, I missed it. Not because I was busy insulting, mocking, taunting, or cursing (I’m not that kind). I didn’t realize such a day existed. A laudable effort? Absolutely. But necessary? Hmm…

I mean, take Christmas, for one.

Kindness should be a daily habit, not just a tick in the calendar. While Christmas has bells, lights, carols, and nicely trimmed trees reminding us to be nice rather than naughty, its spirit should linger throughout the year. But, with life getting so busy, we all need a gentle nudge. If Christmas is kindness in full sparkle, World Kindness Day is its minimalist version.

For me, Christmas is deeply spiritual -a time to reflect on Someone far greater than ourselves: Jesus Christ. Its influence transcends seasons, inspiring ripples of kindness all year long. World Kindness Day, perhaps, is one such ripple -a gentle reminder of the power of goodwill.

I pray for a time when we don’t need days like No Cheating Day, No Stealing Day, or No Bwisit Day.

Here’s to a future where every day is Happy Coffee Day -served and sipped with a generous dose of kindness.

Cheers!

FINAL MEMORIES

Visiting a cemetery can be life-changing, giving you an out-of-this-world perspective. Especially when you’re turning 65. Because, soon, you’ll be turning in your grave, instead. All that you have, all that you have done, you’ll soon trade for a nice plot, six feet under. Or a shiny jar that you don’t even get to choose.

Standing by the graves of Inang who died at 76, over 20 years ago, and of Tatang, who at 91, God called home just before Covid19 changed the world in ways none of us saw coming. I started searching through my mental archives for the last time I held their hands or hugged them. Or the last time I told them, "I love you" or "See you later" or "Bye, bye." I wanted to find those memories but couldn’t. They were not in my memory bank anymore. Maybe because there wasn’t an effort to hit a mental '⌘+S' when they happened. My excuse was that I never imagined they might be the last. And it saddened me. My remembrance of them would have been richer and more endearing, and no matter what level of amnesia I may have in the future, I would still be able to recall. Powerful memories, etched deeply in the soul, can endure through both time and illness.

But, mea culpa, I missed the chance to carpe diem.

Right there, I started to think of my own “last times” -the ones I’d want to savor today if they were the final ones to hold onto:

A round of golf with my buddies, sharing "Fore!", "Oh shoot," and "Oh dang" when a shot goes wayward. Or high-fives and fist bumps for each birdie and par;

The healthy banter exchange with my favorite daughter, Nikkei;

A cup of fresh-pulled coffee I share with my favorite son, Andre;

The nightly kiss with my bride Rissa, and saying, "Night, dear," before dozing off;

Holding the hands of those dear to me;

Taking a selfie, even if I rarely do;

Cheering for the Celtics;

Eating sinangag with tuyô and scrambled eggs for breakfast and ube to go with my espresso;

Running my last 5k;

Shaving my hair;

Making the Sign of the Cross.

Someday, all those little acts will be part of my lasts. And as much as I’d love to preserve every last detail, those memories won’t be for me to carry. They’ll belong to the people I leave behind, fragments of a life they shared with me, reminders of moments I hope they’ll look back on and smile.

Oh yeah. Life. As my good ol’ friend Charlie Brown once said, "In the book of life, the answers aren’t in the back."

I am sure that someday when I grow up, I will figure this one out. While I am still six feet above.

Over coffee, as usual.

Cheers!