Morning Coffee

My physical body at rest, my head floods with memories, and two people come to mind. My imagination creates the setting drinking morning coffee. My grandfather approaches me and my cousin balancing three coffee mugs in one hand.

As I’m sitting there, astonished and fascinated I ask myself, how am I with them?

My grandfather immediately answers my question, “My dear, grandchild. We are both here to help answer all the questions in your life that remain unanswered.”

What questions are unanswered?
We sit in silence. I keep asking myself that same question. And conclusively, I realize all my questions are unanswered.
My mind brought me to my grandfather and cousin because their lives were cut short. My grandfather had a heart attack. My cousin was hit by a car. They have no more questions—they are in a place where they know the answers.
They are here to help me.

Being presented with all the answers in life, I start to ask superficial questions: “What will my grades be? Will I get into college? Will I have a family?” As I wait for answers—which they said they would give me—I get silence.

Maybe they are lying…

“Maria, we are here to help you understand the meaning of life. We are here to give you answers to the questions you cannot get answered yourself. In time, you will be able to answer all those questions on your own,” my grandfather says.
Hmm…That makes sense. But, what’s a “life” question?

My cousin George quickly says, “My life was ended, Maria. What sixteen-year-old boy thinks he’ll get hit by a car? None. What grandfather thinks he’ll never meet his grandkids? None. You have a whole life ahead of you and we are here to guide you.”

Questions flood my mind. “Grandpa, how is grandma always smiling with a life filled with grief? George, how can your death be a lesson? How does our entire family remain strong?”

“You are given one life. You have proved yourself to be a smart, passionate, and friendly person. But the next step is to put those characteristics into action. Your grandmother smiles because she has hope that we will meet again one day,” says grandfather.

“My death is a lesson because it shows others how strong you are, Maria. When my accident occurred, you did not stop your life. Instead, you unknowingly showed others how to be strong, keep smiling, and always look forward, “says George.

“Our family remains sturdy because of these life lessons. You need to take the characteristics you developed through your life and place them into action. Now is the time to show people who you are, what you are capable of, and how you will overcome obstacles,” they say in unison.

My arm flails, my head tells me to wake up, and the new day comes to mind. My “dream”—if that’s what is was—overwhelms me. And then, I ask myself, what will I do today? as if it‘s my last.