You know, it’s a sad thing… to see people pass away from this world at a young age, without being able to enjoy the fullest extent of what this world has to offer, of what we have to offer to each other.
But it is a sadder thing still to see people muddle through in this world, surviving well into their eighties perhaps, and still finding themselves in the same boat—never really knowing, at such a late age in life—of our purpose here, of what life is really for.
I have long mourned the death of my brother at such a tender age, for the former reasons, and I know now, as I knew then, that I will mourn his passing for the rest of my life.
But I know now, as I knew then, that he loved me. That was a gift he gave me, the gift of his love, and the gift of his time in this world—and that is a greater present than any one other person in this world can give—for no person can seek to step in and replace another.
God was merciful in that way, however some may see it otherwise. We are a flash in the pan—fleeting and beautiful and irreplaceable…. And unforgettable. Some see that as a curse.
I see it as our blessing.
“No man is an island, whole and entire unto himself”. John Donne was no fool, and however much we try to tell ourselves, after life lessons we think we’ve learned, and saying that we need no one, and will let no one in, because we won’t risk being hurt: be careful.
Your walls, the ones you build to keep others out, to become your personal fortress—will become your prison, and you will find yourself in the tallest tower (Hopefully at not too late a stage in your life) that you are looking down upon the people outside, the ones you bitterly imagine have never known pain and are ignorant to such things—and you will find yourself cold and bitter and envious of their happiness, their love.
And what kind of life would that bode for you, you in your tower, your heart safe from pain, but walled away from love?
I consider myself lucky. I found out early that I was cheating myself, and I realized that I wasn’t being smart, I wasn’t being brave.
I was being a coward.
Life is not the stature you uphold, its not the money you make or the car you drive. It’s not the people you have under you to daily tell you how brilliant you are and how far you’ve gone.
Life is those we share it with—its being the crying shoulder, the loving spouse, the sister, the confidante, the brother, the mother, the father, the child. Nothing more.
And when we die, “You cannot take it with you”. Why do you think that is?
Because the things we leave behind—the cars, the houses, the bank accounts, the jobs—
Are not the things that were really supposed to matter.
That’s why, even in hurricanes, tsunamis, tornadoes—ask yourself, what do people miss the most, what do they miss, what do they bless themselves and thank God for still having?
Their family, their friends, that are still here. They ask not for the cars or the houses, but the photographs, the memories they made with those they love.
So why are we here? Each of us is set in this world to figure it out for ourselves.
I think I’ve found my reason.
What’s yours?
