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About Me, Biography, Relationship Advice, Religion

Sunday, August 5, 2007

Sunday I slept in a bit because this is my last chance to do so for a bit . . . when I arose I bathed, then . . . I ended up writing about Tunji. I had learned of his death the night before. After my little impromptu memorial, I noted that I happened to be wearing black this day. I was dressed for mourning.

I headed out to the Tennessee Grill for brunch, it getting on towards 11:30. The Catholic church a few blocks downhill was ringing their bells: the call to mass. I detoured towards the Church . . . followed a lady in. Mass had just begun, and I followed other late arrivals into an adjoining little altar area.

They had votive candles burning, which had been what I had in mind. I lit one in Tunji’s memory and sat through mass. I enjoyed the community spirit, some of the songs. The liturgy was pretty light–the priest explained that temperance was avoiding excess. During one song I was overtaken by the beauty and the spirit and I cried quietly for my friend: the lives he had touched, the lives he would have touched had not fate taken him young. I lit a second candle for the lives Tunji touched: his family, us, his friends, and the people he would have served had he become a doctor.

A lady sat in front of me with two young sons. One she held in her arms and the older son, maybe four years old, played with her hair, casually trying to braid one side. I like the harmony: she was there for her purposes and he managed to entertain himself in a manner that hopefully felt pleasant to her.

The priest explained that Jesus had passed the bread around, take it. This is my body. By taking the bread you will spread the word. I figured out that people were getting up for Eucharist, and followed. I savored a Jesus Wafer to take communion for Tunji.

I walked down to the Grill, and had some French Toast and coffee. I had really wanted sausage. Yum!

Back home, read about bonobos in the New Yorker. Then scrubbed the shower out and bathed again after the dirty work, to head out to a date in the East Bay. I met the lady I have been dating the past three months, and she dumped me. I could see it coming and we settled things amicably. She paid for dinner. Classy lady, and too bad . . . I walked away feeling alright for having made a good effort and for having participated in some good times these past three months, and thought about how to work my next approach to dating.

Back home, I’m listening to the Avett Brothers. Surprisingly good bluegrass. They are singing now:

And I love you but I can’t remember why
And I’d love to find a reason to deny
I was a one hit wonder in my own home town

And I guess I might have made a few mistakes
But maybe that’s exactly what it takes
To get a little happy in this big sad world

How many have you made?
And which of those have you laid on down to die?

Well didn’t I say I need you?
I try to move on but I can’t
I try to think of bad times
Good memories are all I have

Not the most apropos excerpt for the moment, but a good tune anyway.

And so it goes. To bed soon, and up around 7am tomorrow to head off to the new job. The new company is about the last place I would ever have thought to look for work, but with an open mind and no agenda I went to interview, and I got on well with the team, and they got on well with me. I have good feelings, and I must make a sincere effort. :)

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Categories: About Me, Biography, Relationship Advice, Religion

  • Yiling

    Well, I don’t know Tunji, but I also lost a very dear friend a few weeks ago. He died on a stroke, but he was just as healthy as anyone should be in his soon-to-be 35. I went to see him twice after he was sent to the hospital. He passed away 4 days later. His funeral was set on his 35 birthday. How ironic.
    The last time I saw him was not long ago when I invited him and his wife coming for dinner, and he just told me that his baby will be borned in October. I still remember his face and his voice. No one can image that he left without any sign.
    I am sad. He was one of my best friends from college, I saw him left but nothing I can do.

  • Yiling,

    I am sorry for the loss. I hope that your friend’s widow has the strength, courage, and love and support of friends and family to raise her child well.

    -danny