Oct 14 2020

Memory anchor for a kind soul

Category: MiscellaneousIuliana @ 1:56

Before modern inventions such as the photo camera and sound recorder, when a person died, they only lived in the memories of the people they’ve met and left a mark in their lives in one way or another. They truly died, when the last person that remembered them died too. Now we have cameras, we can record smiles and voices, if we use these resources in a smart way, we could keep somebody alive forever. But people need to forget and need to move on.

I don’t know where I read it, but apparently Facebook is a cemetery, there are a lot of accounts of people that are not alive anymore and that did not bother to share the password with anyone. So, they will be alive as long as their internet footprint is. It is morbid but comforting in a way. People that have had their lives touched by people they died, can still take a look at the person that impressed them so much, but that life moved them far away.

I am writing all this because I found out somebody I considered a friend died recently. I’ve met him only a few times, but he was always so kind and so lovely to be around. He had a gentle soul, a poet’s heart and although we lived in cities quite far away from each other, each interaction with him was pleasant. I probably liked him a lot because we shared the passion for music.

The last time we interacted, was in May, we talked on WhatsApp. He wanted me to write a LinkedIn recommendation for him. And I did. And it looked like this.

I have worked with Corian from 2014 to 2018 at BearingPoint. He was member of a team that my team interacted with very often. He was essential in integrating the two products and facilitated communication between teams. He is driven, open-minded, eager to learn and share knowledge. This was reflected in the quality of his work, he went the extra mile to make sure delivery deadlines were respected and the features delivered lived up to the expectations.
He is one of the most reliable and adaptable developers I have worked with. It was a pleasure working with Corian, I would have loved to have him in my team and I have no doubt he will have a wonderful career in software development.

And his reply was: “I love you too”. At first, I was dumbfounded. Nobody said they love me in a long time. And nobody uses those words so easily, I definitely don’t. And why would he write that? I haven’t talked to him in years. And then I realized in my recommendation I used “I would have loved to have him in my team” instead of “I would have liked to have him in my team”. So, he was a little bit sarcastic about that. We had a few funny exchanges and he sent me a link to one of his poems; out of the blue, with no context. I had no idea what to answer. So, I just said “ok ….. thx :)”. Looking at the WhatsApp exchange now, the poem is gone. Must have been an URL and the source was removed. But my awkward reply is still there. Maybe I should have read it with more attention, maybe said something about it. Maybe I should have talked to him more often.

A week later he invited me to his wedding, and I said no… because of the pandemic. Now I’m so sorry I did not make an effort to be there for him.

Almost any trace of him was erased from the internet. Apparently, his family wanted it that way. And although, we did not talk much, and we were not that close I will always remember him fondly. I wish I had more memories of him.

It seems so unfair a person so kind and so young is no more! Life has taken me far away, and probably we would have never met each other again. But, it was nice for the probability to ever meet again to be bigger than damn zero. Uff Cori, why do you have to be just another one of those persons that I will remember just by name in ten years or, so? I wish there was an afterlife for all musicians, because if there were, I would probably meet you there. By then my piano playing will be better and it will be my pleasure to jam with you.

It is being said that a man is not really dead as long as his name is still spoken. We are only truly gone, when we’ve disappeared from the memories of those who love us.

Rest in peace, Corian Paun! The world is poorer without you in it. Your kind soul will be missed, and you will be remembered.