That night – the last meeting
By Jing Liu
That night, in the season’s turning point between late winter and early spring, darkness seemed to fall earlier than before. By midnight, my restless thoughts drifted in the background of the white noise in my mind, like a breeze casually chasing away sleep. Suddenly, a faint rustling sound came from outside the window, either near or far, as if it were there and yet not. I got up and walked to the window, gently drawing back the curtain. It was the light rain, carrying tiny snowflakes, softly tapping against the glass. I could see clearly how the raindrops enveloped the snowflakes, like tiny comets leaving their tails streaked across the pane. The little snowflakes slid along the slanting trails of rain before landing on the windowsill, bouncing a few times before melting into the white snow on the roof tiles and vanishing without a trace.
Following the direction of the rain, I lifted my gaze to the sky. Against the backdrop of the silver-clad earth, the night was not so much gloomy as it was clear and translucent. Though not as bright as an autumn night under a full moon, the surroundings were still faintly visible, accentuating the deep serenity of the night. I cracked open the window slightly, and in an instant, a rush of fresh, damp air brushed against my face. Though chilly, its crispness cleared my mind, sharpening my senses.
All day, I had been waiting for his call, though I wasn’t sure if it would come today. He was undergoing heart surgery, an 80-year-old man with other health issues, a situation that weighed heavily on my mind. I knew it was too late for any calls now, but I was convinced: No news is good news.
The night grew profoundly still, so quiet that “serene” seemed a more fitting word. It felt neither like heaven nor hell, but rather like limbo, a space of unsettling uncertainty where only the faint vitality of snow-laced rain breathed a sliver of life into the darkness. It was destined to be a sleepless night. Time dragged on as I drifted in and out of consciousness until the first hints of dawn. I did not know when the drizzling rain had stopped, and the soft rustle of snowflakes had faded, leaving only the occasional drip from the eaves, irregular and unhurried, like the ticking of an old, rusted pendulum clock.
The sky gradually brightened, revealing slivers of pale blue between the ashen clouds. The sun rose in the morning, its rays filtering through the thin overcast and glinting off the ice-laden branches, turning them into crystalline sculptures. The light also caught the droplets still falling from the eaves, each one refracting tiny rainbows. It was a peaceful and beautiful morning, one that made it seem as though everything would be all right.
At 10:09 a.m., the phone rang, the time he had promised to call me. I hurriedly picked up the phone, and my heart tense with a hope of hearing his voice. But it was a lady’s voice on the other end. She told me he had never woken up after the surgery, passing away peacefully in his sleep. For a moment, my mind went blank. I barely registered the rest of her words. I stood there, numb, unaware of when she had hung up.
It took a long time before I could steady myself. He had been my teacher, my mentor, and my friend, someone I had known and cherished for over 30 years. I sat quietly by the window, memories flashing through my mind like scenes from a film, vivid and out of sequence, each one stealing my breath. His voice, his laughter, his wisdom—it all felt so near, as if we were simply sharing coffee and conversation as we often had. His sharp intellect, rigorous academic discipline, and uniquely critical way of thinking had shaped me profoundly. Even in matters of life and work, his guidance had been invaluable.
Two nights before his surgery, I visited him in the hospital. As usual, we talked at length. We made plans to share coffee and brainstorming discussions after his recovery. Never had I imagined that would be our last meeting, our last conversation. Now, grief and longing washed over me, leaving me alone and restless. I opened the window and gazed at the horizon, where sunlight streamed through the clouds, illuminating the world in radiant clarity. Against the light, I thought I saw his figure fading into the distance, just as he had when he walked me to the elevator after our last visit. We had embraced, and I wished him a successful surgery. After saying goodnight, he turned back toward his room. I watched him walk down the long hallway. He didn’t look back, but he knew I was watching. Only when he reached his door did he turn, smiling, and wave goodbye. I waved back. That was the last time I saw him. Tears welled in my eyes. May his journey be peaceful.
The sunlight was almost blinding now. Squinting against it, I saw, as if in a vision, my elementary and high school teachers, my university professors, all of them smiling at me from within the light, their eyes filled with kindness, trust, and encouragement. The teachers who had shaped my life had all departed, one by one, journeying to that distant horizon. Their influence lasts my lifetime. Thank you, my dear mentors, for your wisdom, for the strength you gave me, for the lessons that will endure. I am forever grateful.
The rain and snow from that night had melted into a glistening silver veil under the morning sun, scattered across the thawing earth. Tender green shoots sprouted from the soil, and crocuses bloomed where the sunlight touched. Winter had given way to spring, and in the endless cycle of days and years, life, like the change of seasons, renewed itself – generation after generation, an eternal rhythm where each turn brought forth its own fleeting, radiant beauty.
Just then, as if carried by the wind, the strains of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons seemed to drift from the horizon – a violin concerto celebrating life’s passage through spring, summer, autumn, and winter, a hymn to the miraculous, unending dance of existence.
Thank you, Warren, for being such a fantastic mentor, great teacher, good friend, and inspiration in my life. I won’t ever forget the golden time we spent together. Even though you have gone from my life, you will be forever in my heart.
Goodbye, Warren!
