An elderly gentleman with his wife just passed my seat. He could barely walk, stooped and supported by his wife. I offered to help and she declined with a quiet smile. Another passenger in front of me was more sensible, he didn’t ask, he just took hold of the elderly man’s hand and guided him forward. The reason why this affects me more than normal is that I can picture daddy and mummy going through the same just a decade ago.
Coincidentally I happen to be watching a movie about a man who, at the age of 42, suddenly realizes his life is “boring”, that he’s not alive and proceeds to be brutally frank with his family and friends, brutal being the operative word. As of this moment, he’s gone to meet his father with whom he seems to have had a dysfunctional relationship.
I am not sure how the two are connected and don’t really care to articulate it either; I am not writing something to be published. What I do know is that both make me feel. A sense of regret, sadness…or maybe just pensiveness.
There’s so much pain in each of one of us. There’s so much pain in our loved ones. What’s “being alive” as opposed to be being just “tragic”? Why are we passive in our relationship with people? What’s this man thinking, that he’s left his wife and children in confusion and sadness, as he figures out his own self? What was I thinking, paying more attention to my own issues with daddy than to his excruciating physical (and, in hindsight, emotional) pain?
I have just returned from a 2 week trip to Prague and a week’s vacation in New York. At this moment, I am tired and a little unwell (not to mention bankrupt), but overall happy and cool. Tomorrow I could be, let’s change that to “will not be”, not. There will be pain. And confusion. And craziness. Physical discomfort. Embarrassments. To use an old-fashioned term, adversity.
Sometimes, even in the middle of a good time, it’s important to remember that. It’s the intellectual equivalent of making sure that you say your bedtime prayers regularly.
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