We, the sheep following the absent shepherd

Mmm. Have fun? Because the realization has come now. Or have sadness? Because the realization has just come now. It begins with a violent awakening triggered by a sleep-shattering tone. A noisily unpleasant tone. The heart should be beating with the beat of gratitude. Fingertips should stroke strands of hair with a feeling of joy. They should. Instead, the eyes, with their superficial layer, look around at the strangers hanging on the stranger’s puzzles. Soaked with the desire to see more and more. Obsessed with a hunger to know more and more. About those standing outside of us. About those walking far from us. We, proud individuals embracing unknown faces with admiration. We, proud individuals generously closing the door to those faithfully, selflessly breathing life into us. Grandfather, grandmother. They stood by us from the first breath. They stood by us even when their feet lost contact, solid contact with the ground. Mom, Dad. They spoke to our souls before our first thought. Mom, Dad. They spoke to us even after the third, fourth fatal falls. Siblings. They supported us from the first snap of the branch.

Friends. They shouted our names loudly in seasons when our self-esteem wandered down a lost road with no beginning. Neighbors. They welcomed us kindly, graced us with the first bite into a tasty morsel. What were their childhood dreams? What were their family experiences? What was their first love? With what passion did they choose their profession? What was it like to cross the borders of the republic for the first time? Why didn’t they stay there but returned here? What was the reason that made them harbor that strange recluse? What moments color the blood in their veins the most? What are the biggest demons they have defeated in their lives? How could our presence help them now? How much? How much do we know about our loved ones… What? What do we know about our loved ones… How? How well do we know our loved ones… Different direction. Our inner compass points in a different direction. Perhaps more noisy. More attention evoking. More glitter-producing. We, we know more than just their names. The stories behind their entire existence. The favourite dishes adorning their elegantly set tables. The deepest tears forming their cheekbones. The deepest plans of the most distant moments. The funniest paintings of black and white images.

Their every move. Their every breath. Their every stumble. Carefully researched, preserved, admired. As if they were heroes. As if they were yellow stars in a dark sky. We, we cannot feel their embrace and yet we dedicate our entire existence to them. We, we cannot hear their sighs and yet we give them our full attention. While those walking lovingly beside us, those protecting lovingly within us, we disdainfully overlook as if their presence has lost its meaning. As if their presence shuns temporality. Late. Perhaps, it is not too late to return home. To tell her, to tell him, how much we care about them and to ask them how…