Disappearing Bit by Bit

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Photo: Photofunia.com

I didn’t really know him very well but his death hit me hard.

Why?

Because, although I wasn’t really a part of his life now, he had been a significant part of mine when I was fifteen. Because, as I get older and as life moves on and changes, I’m coming to realise that there is a decreasing number of people in my life who knew me Before.

Before I bore the name I do now. Before I was seen in the context of my spouse, my children or my occupation. Before my dreams of becoming an author or an astrophysicist became just that. Before sorrow, loss, responsibility and struggle left their scars. Before my life was so defined.

Time is relentless and as it passes bits of who we were disappear. Places we lived, studied, worked, played. People with whom we shared laughter, tears, stories, dreams. The ideals we held for who we thought we’d be.

The tapestry of our life in the past becomes increasingly threadbare as the threads are pulled one by one.

I wrap that tapestry around my shoulders, shelter in it and hold fast to the memories while I can.

In memory of Noel.

 

Parenting Postscript: The title for this post comes courtesy of my 17-year-old youngest son. Sharing our usual “How was your day?” conversation in the car on the way home from school, he asked me if the person whose funeral I had attended was someone close to me. As I explained the connection and why I was so sad, he said “It feels like your past is disappearing bit by bit.” He understood. As a mother of three sons, the responsibility to raise good men falls heavily. It is moments like this that make me feel proud and more than a little relieved that I must be doing something right.

 

An Imaginary Friend

Imaginary Friend

Me and My Imaginary Friend

Have you ever had an imaginary friend? Do you have an imaginary friend now?

If you once had an imaginary friend, I feel very happy for you.

If you have an imaginary friend now, I feel even more happy for you. (You thought I was going to say I feel worried for you, didn’t you?)

I think I’d rather like to have an imaginary friend now, at my age.

But that’s a discussion for another time. It’s not actually what this post is about.

Sometimes, a random thought will come wandering into my head like a lost tourist, plonk itself down on its suitcase in the middle of my thoughts and wait for me to ask if there’s anything I can do for it.

The latest one was this:

“I wonder what it would be like to be an imaginary friend?”

Let’s think about that, shall we?

You’d never have to feel guilty for being in the wrong place at the wrong time or the wrong place at the right time or the right place at the wrong time. An imaginary friend always has perfect timing.

You’d never have to take your foot out of your mouth or apologise for saying something thoughtless, hurtful or stupid. An imaginary friend always knows the right thing to say.

You’d never have to agonise over a gift, wondering if it’s appropriate or too much or too little. An imaginary friend always buys awesome imaginary gifts with his/her imaginary millions.

You’d never have to second guess yourself about whether you were a good friend or not. An imaginary friend has absolute confidence.

You’d never have to make conversation with other friends or relatives of your friend, especially those with political views that make your blood boil. An imaginary friend is invisible to everybody else.

You’d never have to worry about posting the wrong thing on Facebook or Twitter or forgetting to reply to an email from your friend. Imaginary people don’t have Facebook or Twitt….er….acc…..ounts….. Okay, you might have to wear that one.

What would it be like to be an imaginary friend?

I reckon it would be freakin’ awesome!

How about you?

 

 

 

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I Am Not The Person You Are Looking For

Human beings are such complex and contradictory creatures. We can profess to want one thing and yet yearn for another.

We claim to be excited by the new but cling to the familiar. We seek the unexpected but baulk at its unpredictability.

And I’m not just talking about the latest smartphone or the changing face of our suburbs. The same seems to hold true in our relationships with each other.

What happens when the joking, life-of-the-party decides he has had enough of being entertaining and becomes introspective and serious?

What happens when the joiner of committees, participant in working bees and attendee of groups and classes decides to withdraw from all commitments and focus on herself?

What happens when the one who has always been available to provide a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on decides to distance himself to focus on his own life troubles?

What happens?

The world doesn’t cope.

The friends of the Joker, used to sitting back and being entertained, find it too hard to have a serious conversation and stop inviting him to social events.

The members of committees and working bees, the leaders of groups and teachers of classes, instead of inspiring new people to participate, bemoan the fact that things no longer get done and people no longer come now the Joiner is not involved.

The friends of the Carer resent his unavailability to them and withdraw their friendship just when he needs it most.

What does the one who has changed do now?

A. He reverts back to his previous persona, all the while resenting the role he must play to comply with expectations.

or

B. She persists in her new persona and suffers the barbs and the loneliness this attracts.

Both difficult choices.

or….

When others come looking for the person he or she used to be, there’s always the good old Jedi mind trick.

“I am not the person you are looking for.”