The Last Sip

Having my Friday sip of alcohol (rum, today), I had forgotten this was the dregs of the bottle. I found myself at the last sip sooner than I planned. As I held it in my mouth, contemplating the sudden emptiness of the glass, I am reminded of a friend that passed on earlier this week. The sip still in my mouth began to sour in taste as I found myself suddenly reluctant to swallow.

My thoughts played at me, as if reading from another’s script. “You thought you’d have more.” I nodded.

“You thought there was no need to savor it, because you could always pour more.” I nodded.

“And now, you are at the end. There is no more to sip, and even what you hold is seeping away.” I started to tear up. I regret not knowing him more. I regret not listening more. I regret not coming across him sooner, staying back and playing the wallflower because I was afraid to offend.

The phone rang. I would have to swallow this fading sip. Life continues on, and pauses for nothing. Much like how the week continued on after his death. But where the rum fades away, his memory remains in my heart. His lessons still teach me.

The glass is empty, the bottle drained and disposed. But my love for my friend continues on.