Relief at the loss
(Baonghean.vn) - Perhaps what has passed is what should be passed, what has been lost is what should be lost. When we accept loss, it also means we accept to let go of our own greed for possession.
The folder containing thousands of mp3 files of my favorite songs, which I had been patiently collecting since I was 15 years old, was completely deleted. The folder disappeared from a stupid mouse click of mine, in a moment of idleness, daydreaming about making myself busy by cleaning up computer junk. I pressed Shift+Delete repeatedly. The yellow and blue rectangular files disappeared one by one with a very light "swish" sound effect. By the time I realized that among those disappearances, there was a music folder that I had kept for years, it was too late.
I stared blankly at the empty screen for a long time, feeling as if the folder had left, taking with it a whole sky of memories from my youth. My family was poor. When I was 15, of course I didn’t have my own computer. In 2003, 2004, my friends from the 80s generation and I saved up some money for breakfast, occasionally skipping the last class to go to the Internet cafe near school. I still remember that shop clearly, with the rusty iron door that creaked loudly as if it was about to fall off every time a customer entered or exited, about 20 old computers placed close together, the screens flashing with all kinds of applications in the dim light of the neon lights.
The first songs I liked were heard at that Internet cafe. The rough headphones that covered my head, dirty and smelly from “receiving” dozens of customers every day, poured into my ears sad and unfamiliar songs by Jay Chou, Lin Junjie, Show Luo, Wang Leehom… At that time, Yahoo! was popular, friends from all over the world got to know each other through youth forums, sent links to listen to Chinese music, translated the lyrics and urged “Listen, it’s great!” as if “popularizing” a vital culture of youth.
The lyrics are so sad:The dandelion next to the elementary school fence/ is a beautiful scene carrying the floral scent of memories/ The sound of cicadas from the soccer field at noon/ after so many years is still as beautiful as ever/ Fold a wish into a paper airplane to send/ because we can't wait for that shooting star/ Carefully toss the coin of fate/ without knowing where it will land/ The promise from childhood still appears clearly/ We hooked our fingers together and believed/ the promise to wander together is the only stubbornness of yours that remains until now...I downloaded and saved all the songs from that time, songs imbued with the fragrance of jasmine, dreams of childhood idols, memories and hopes from thousands of miles away.
The folder contains thousands of songs collected from such youthful memories. In the folder are small files, divided into stages of maturity. The years 2000 and 2000. The years 2010 and 2020. During those years, sometimes I liked Chinese music, sometimes I loved listening to Vietnamese bolero music, sometimes I listened to Trinh music, UK music... The music was a mess in the order of maturity of my mind, and looking at it, I always remembered who I used to be, what I used to be like in a certain period of my life. But now it's all gone, I've lost them, lost the sadness, the joy, the memories, the nostalgia, the ultimate breakdown, the happiness that made me cry...
I thought about that loss for a long time, very sad and regretful. But then, strangely, the more I thought about it, the calmer I became - as calm as the flat surface of a lake after a stone fell into the water. The lake knew that deep down at the bottom of the mossy water, a sedimentary rock had fallen and remained forever, but it didn't matter, just that was enough, just knowing that was enough. Perhaps what had passed was what should have passed, what had been lost was what should have been lost. When we accept loss, it also means we accept letting go of our own greed for possession.
My music folder with thousands of interesting and rare files, when saving it on the computer, I always worried that it would be lost when installing software, changing storage drives...; unconsciously, it became a burden on my mind. Now, when it disappears, all those heavy attachments also disappear. I accept that the joys and sorrows of memories will fade with the flow of time and the limited memory of humans. I accept forgetting what I used to be like, what I did and where I was. I accept that the present me is built up by countless broken versions of the past that now cannot remember my own stumbles, mistakes and failures. When I realize this, suddenly the loss is no longer terrible, only leaving behind a boundless relief...
