Everyday at school we had lunch together, whether a lunchbox from home or a soggy canteen food, we sat at the same spot. The location never changed – only the topics did. We talked about boys like the teenagers that we are. We talked about the future, gossiped about the people or even shared random stories a friend had picked up from another class and inevitably about homework. We didn’t bother to talk about politics or other major issues. We just lived our youthful life, tranquilly. Years passed, and we never realized we would never be in that moment again. 

Today, a friend of mine sent me a video  I had edited on our last day of school. That video was us being silly, random at times and it was hilarious. Most of us grow up differently now,  and that is beautiful in its own way. We haven’t lost our spark – but only the way we think. Now we speak about what’s happening with the world. The gossip never misses a beat. And, sadly we do talk about losing our loved ones as well. This has become our new topic ever since one had lost her father and another lost her mother.

A few years ago, during the Covid break, one of us lost her dad.  It was devastating to be there, yet not quite there. When the news flew through my phone, I remember I was shaking as I knew the father was one of the good ones to us. Did not know much about him but she spoke so fondly every time and he always had this face that belonged in heaven. You know a good one when you see one they said. He was one of them.

When we finally returned to school, she told us about his last minute on the phone. The scene was peculiar like no other, not what you would imagine when someone dies. She never got that last warm hug, the last kiss on the forehead, not even a last proper goodbye – like most people get. I listened to her attentively and this made me wonder :  If I ever lose someone,  will I be this calm and composed?  I would be driven to the brick of madness. I can’t imagine losing a father or a mother at this age. 

Unfortunately, my mom had lost her dad when she was in her early twenties. She never really talks about it. That’s how I knew how much that hurt her. She lost him forever. The thought is wild. On the surface, she seems fine. Deep down, I know she is trying her best to hide it. Maybe that is just the eldest daughter in her. Then the bell rang, the lunch hour was over. 

A few years passed. Right before Ramadan, another friend lost her mother. Oh my, oh my – she lost a mother. A mother. A friend told me that during the funeral, she was so composed. Not even a single tear in her eyes, not one running down her face. But the others mourned like normal people would – they were bawling their eyes out and their knees went weak. I always knew she doesn’t turn weak easily. She’s the strongest among us. I wanted to give her a call, but instead I gave her time and space. Probably too much as I got called out days after for not reaching sooner. 

Being miles apart while being in this situation really killed me inside. I want to be there with them, hugging them tightly. I know asking “Are you ok?” wouldn’t change a thing – but that’s all I can do from far away. I hate this part about studying abroad. You missed a moment like this. 

To make things worse, I lost my grandfather just after my finals. My heart dropped. I had to carry it with a smile on my face, pretending that everything will be just fine. I never imagined  the news would arrive. “Your grandfather just took his last breath.” That sentence killed me even though we were not close with each other, but he was the only grandfather I had. I cried my heart out, tears falling as all the memories and regrets flashed before my eyes. It wouldn’t stop raining. The storm kept coming. The waves were so strong, I couldn’t hold them in.

A few months back, mom told me that his health was deteriorating. Silently, I wished to see him when I went back. I thought I could make it in time but God had a different plan. This isn’t the first time I thought I’d make it but failed miserably. Within two years of being abroad, I already lost four people. Everytime without fail, I cry white reading Surah Ya-sin. Sometimes I can’t finish reading it. My heart feels tight as the oxygen leaves the room. It feels like watching the same film over and over again – same plot but different people. 

At that moment, I needed that lunch with a friend I’ve known for years, but I couldn’t ask for it. The intimacy that we shared by adapting each other’s vocabularies, tones and moods is incomparable. People here were there but were not that close to have these deep conversations. There’s a fine line between us. Not all of them but some. I am forever grateful for a few of them that are always there for me but high school friends just resonate differently. The talking and assuring came easily because they knew how to talk to me the way I needed them too. 

For once, that school lunch was all I needed. To go back and sit at the same table without talking, just crying for hours. To listen to each other ramble on useless things without judgement. I had that access but not anymore. Growth was happening. We can’t run from it.  

I crave that high school lunch as I sit in my room, wondering whether to ask them or not. After hours, I sent the text, “Are you guys free for lunch?” because that was what I wanted most. Them being there with me no matter the distance. 

They replied shortly after with a “Yes,” and  “Of course.” 

I closed my eyes and I could imagine us sitting at the same table during lunch hour in high school. Just smaller now, inside a screen.

Are you free for lunch?

We always were. We just forget to ask. 

We don’t do this often, our schedules always clash with one another. Not to mention the time zones. I cry for the hundredth time in front of them, something I don’t think I could ever do with other people. They didn’t try to fix it. They stayed. That’s what that high school lunch was about. Not the food, not the spot, but the people. We have each other until now, and that has to be enough. 

After we hung up, I stared at the ceiling silently. The storm inside my head hadn’t stopped but I’m glad I wasn’t weathering alone. They are my safe place, another roof that I need. I used to think lunch was about the food but I was wrong, now it’s all about the people who made you feel full.  

This is how life ought to be now.