I carry with me the faces of thousands, the voices of hundreds, the souls of many. At every turn, they are there. Filling the spaces of my mind and the crevices of my heart. I am never free from their presence. They follow me like ducklings after their mother.

Every sentimental location has been stacked with layers of people and memories. I close my eyes and breathe in the moment. I tried to remember the sights, sounds, lighting and mood so as to never forget that place. With my eyes shut, I see the faces of beloved friends, students, parents and comrades. I see the ones who still keep in touch. I see the ones who unfriended me on Facebook. I see the ones I disappointed. I see the ones who went ahead of us to heaven. I see them all. Like it or not, they are woven into the very fabric of who I am. 

Like a slow, visual echo their souls laugh and cry with me. This cloud of witnesses watch me make my move and absorb the moment. They create a trail of memories, faces hovering as sharp reminders. I lock eyes with one person, but a dozen peer from behind. The floating memories linger, making many days bittersweet.

And now there are no more “last days” in which I can soak up the moments. I’ve had them all. Now it’s a new set of days where I am now the shadow. I am the has-been. I am the face that peers over shoulders and lurks behind closed doors. Like a restless child, I sense my heart moving about… pacing… wandering… trying to find a new niche. Trying not to forget. Trying to move on.

But the world moves forward without me — as it should. Me and the Faces must find a new corner of the world to cultivate. But this process of emotional exile is ruthless. It demands me to detach, detox and distract myself from what has been familiar and safe. It won’t let me back in. It won’t allow me to regret my decisions. It commands me to march. Onward. Upward. Further up and further in. 

But my heart is essentially broken. On some levels, I am even devastated. I do not know what to do with the echoes of these souls or the shadows of these hearts. Some travel with me, many will not. I have long harbored their hurts and absorbed their personalities; what shall I do now with this over-stretched capacity? I want to love them all. Fix them all. Provide for them all. Keep up with them all. Answer their questions. Be the friend they want me to be. Help them heal from their wounds. Help them achieve their dreams. But I can’t. Most of them are just shadows and I have to walk away knowing I cannot be who I want to be in their lives. Walk away. Move on.

Moving on means trusting that God will care for me and for the Faces that I have come to care so much about. It means letting the Shepherd be the guide, the guardian, the gentle leader. It means letting the Faces drift into proper perspective. I think they will always be there, but growing less grabby as they slowly become part of the walls. They have become a part of me, and for that I am grateful. Their laughter, tears, prayers, victories, failures and ambitions have made me who I am today. I will always carry them. 

People don’t really understand the depth of my sorrow or the corresponding depth of my love. And that’s okay. They try. And for that, I am very grateful. I have no words to explain why people are so dear or places are so profound or experiences so meaningful. I have 16 years of life-changing experiences and relationships to process and file away somewhere. I really don’t know where to start.

And so the world spins madly on, never stopping long enough for me to catch my breath or readjust my expectations. I must float in the current of God’s love and let Him carry me at the pace He knows is best. 

And so, dear Faces, I suppose you’ll hang around for a long time. Just be patient with me. I am freshly broken each time I see you, reminding me of all the years and layers of beautiful moments.

And, Lord, for the faces I do get to keep up close and personal — thank you.