"You smell like sorrow", he teased. I flinched and forced a smile, like I always do. There are grains of truth in jokes, no matter how incredulous it may seem. I have attuned myself to dissecting those edges, where the entertainment stops and the smarting bite of reality leaves a gash. He must have seen through me, like he always does.

"Tell me, wise guy, what does sorrow smell like?", I teased back, falling into routine yet again. I expected an attempt at hilarity, probably a pun with the intermingling of perfume, scrambled eggs and sweat on my hair.

"It depends entirely on the person. It’s like with Mom, I can smell the faded photographs, dark coffee and pancakes."

"Pancakes? Who associates sorrow with pancakes?"

One second. Two seconds. Five seconds. Eight seconds. The pause was entirely too long that I knew I pressed the wrong button.

"My dad, he loves..loved pancakes. He would wake me up every Saturday morning and tell me it’s pancake day. Sometimes, when I’m in the mood and I could smell the maple syrup from the kitchen, I’d laugh. More often than not, I would lash out for being woken up".

"That doesn’t make you a bad son."

"It doesn’t make me a good one either."

Silence. I wondered if this was the reason why we started spending more and more time with each other, why we fell into the patterns of a relationship. They said misery loves company. Grief does that too. It brings people—‎two, lonely people—together. When my grandmother died, no one understood the ache, the cliff, the inebriating sense of loss that clobbers you like waves. Until him. I lace my fingers around his own, and squeezed. You’re not alone, I remind him. I’m here.

I knew what he meant now. I smell it too, on him. His sorrow smelled like stolen liquor from the shop on the corner street, wet pavement and burnt tires, the way I imagined it smelled the night of the accident a year ago; when he survived and his father died.

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    "Grief does that. It brings people - two lonely people together." I’ll always be here for you. You know who you are.
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Saved by His grace.

Hello there, stranger!
Jane. Filipina. Los Angeles, CA

This blog will be mostly about who God is in my life, but I will be posting random stuff as well. You can check my prose and poetry to see who I used to be. But now, I am fierce of lover of Jesus Christ. I draw my strength from His faithfulness, my peace from His love and my identity from His grace.
John 3:30


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