An appointment with impermanence

I was like that. One windless afternoon, I sat and counted my old dreams, the years I once held so tightly but time took away everything. On the other side of the river, where the color of the drizzle faded, there was no one waiting for me anymore. The old road no longer shared a shadow, the old lamp no longer had anyone to light it for me. I just understood: once Impermanence touches, everything I thought was “mine” becomes as fragile as a speck of dust.

Life… turns out to be so short that we are not prepared.

Just yesterday we still met, still smiled, still had familiar words; but today someone’s breath has forever stopped. Each day that passes a little bit, leaving a longer memory, a deeper void in my heart. There are loves I have never had the chance to name. There are regrets I can never express. We – all of us, hide a wound in our hearts that time has yet to heal.

Having gone through half of my life, I picked up the broken pieces of my youth like a lost person picking up his own footprints. Sometimes I felt like a traveler standing in the middle of the vast sky, not knowing where the destination was, where home was. At that moment, Vo Thuong sat down beside me, quietly but close enough to hear my breath. He did not blame, did not teach, just spoke in a whisper:

“No one's life is perfect. If you want to be at ease, you have to let go of the pain.”

Those words were like a knife, but a healing knife.

I began to look at the world with slower eyes. I began to appreciate every sound of traffic on the street, every leaf falling on the eaves. The little things that I had previously forgotten now became a test to know that I was still alive.

Then I realized the most shocking thing:

People are not afraid of losing anything… they are only afraid of not having time to say the words of love.

So I learned to love again. Love slower. Love deeper. Love others, and love myself — the one who had endured for so long without saying a word.

But learning to love is also learning to endure.

Because no one goes through life without being broken at some point. On rainy nights, the old pain stirs up again. I thought it was a sign of weakness, but it turns out it is a lesson of life. Each wound is a road map. Each tear is a milestone marking maturity.

One night, the cold wind blew across the roof, and I felt a little older. Loneliness sat beside me like an old friend. I used to think that loneliness was chasing me. No. It turned out that it had been sitting there for a long time, but now I was calm enough to look straight at it.

And in a fleeting moment, I realized:

Impermanence does not come to scare us.

It comes to remind us to live more kindly with the rest of our lives.

Thanks to it, I am grateful for the people who have passed through my life – those who stayed and those who left. I am grateful for the love that blossomed and then withered. I am grateful for the losses that devastated me, because they made me appreciate what remains.

One day with Vo Thuong, I bowed my head in gratitude.

Thank life for letting me love.

Thank you sadness for teaching me patience.

Thank yourself for not giving up in the darkest of times.

And somewhere, in the silence of the purple sunset, I wondered:

“When will we truly be loved?”

Maybe… when we are calm enough to open our hearts.

Maybe… when we learn to embrace change with a heart that is no longer afraid.

Or maybe… that question will never have an answer.

But that's okay.

Because after that date, I learned how to slow down, how to smile at the imperfections. And most of all, I learned how to hold the rest of my life with both hands, gently but firmly.

Source: https://baophapluat.vn/mot-lan-hen-voi-vo-thuong.html