I would like sometimes to think it is otherwise, to think that I matter more than I do, but I have realized time and again that I am but a speck in the vastness of the universe. Life keeps rushing along with its business no matter what I’m thinking about or doing. Although it may seem like the world has stopped at various times to me, the world in fact keeps on moving. It is people who give meaning to each other. It is our relationships and our interactions; our participation and our stillness; our laughter and our tears that assign meaning to our lives.
While we can’t be replicated,* we can be replaced. The job you leave will be filled. The tears shed for you will eventually dry. The hole in your heart will mend. The baby will fuss or laugh at the funeral no matter how solemn – pulling its mother, father, grandmother, and other witnesses back to the concerns of the living. “Ah, yes,” we think, “The baby.” The baby must be tended to.
Have you had a time in your life when you thought you could not recover from a love affair that ended?
Have you faced a disappointment so painful that you thought you would go mad?
Most of the time, most of us are able to weather the storm. Often times we become stronger, more resilient from having to repair the damages of experience.
Welcome to life. This is how it is. Many people, so much more eloquent than me have written about it – “into each life some rain must fall.” So get an umbrella and grab some galoshes. Be prepared for the inevitable downturns but don’t embrace them when they come and don’t encourage them to come sooner than their due.
The world, this life may not give two cents about me but I care about me. I’m glad I “got born.” I hope that it will be remembered some where that I was here, that I lived, that I did right by somebody, that I did the best that I could more times than not.
Say, amen, somebody.
*At least not quite yet (shudder).