In the fleeting time meaning of anything is only what you give to anything, and its value is only that which you place upon it. Like a water vapor your life will burn away in the heat of living and old age will crumble your bones, but do not bemoan what will be, rather rejoice in this, a day that the Lord has given.
Looking back always give just a snapshot of what you had to endure one step at a time, and while you may remember the kiss though you cannot feel the softness, nor taste the sweetness, of the lips that pressed upon yours. You recall the slap that left your face red from its anger but you have lost the sting that burned your face. Bits and peaces of this and that are retained to recall but most of all, all is gone like the mist to the midday sun. Sometimes this will make you remember that, even though you may wish that you did not. Memories are seldom controlled; they are evoked by the experiences of now.
You sit behind the wheel and remember how to drive, you did not think of driving before getting into the car, and as you leave the driveway you remember how to get to your destination. As you drive down the road your body takes over the mundane tasks of operating the car and you bran carry on with its thoughts that may or may not have anything to do with the trip. When you get back home, if asked you will remember what you have done with no effort on your part, it will just come to you. But as the days go by first the details of the trip will be lost, then even the trip will fade into all the other trips you have made and unless something remarkable had happen the trip will be lost completely to forgetfulness.
I dread the day I will no longer be able to drive myself around because of lost skills. But that day will come, and I will have to depend upon others to carry me about or not go out at all, like my dear departed aunt Elaine used to say, “getting old isn’t so bad when you consider the alternatives”.
I have buried both my Father and Mother and their memory remains strong with in me, but the memory of my childhood with them has faded to just a few that I can recall from six and before, even my teen years have slid into the darkness of “I cannot recall”. And more and more I find myself remembering things that others say just did not happen, not the way I remember them anyway.
Funerals are for the living, not the dead but nothing brings your mortality home like putting you parents into their grave. My mother, who always seemed so much older and wiser then me, was only seventeen years older then me, how long can it be before I follow her into the ground? Of course I know that she and I will be together again come the Resurrection, but the grief of not having her around will be a burden that I and my brother and sister will carry until we pass.
I was at my Grandfather’s grave the other day and found that my memories of him had withered to little more than of an old man sitting in a rocking chair. He passed these some fifty years ago. I remember him because he was my Grandfather, but I do not remember his father or mother at all, not do I know anyone who does. I do not even know how to find their graves. I do remember that my brother and I got sent out of the Church during his service for squabbling with one another, he says it was because I pinched him, but I don’t remember that.
After they lay us in our grave who among us will be remembered in a hundred years? What do any of us know of a hundred years ago that we did not read in a book? Bits and peaces of a hundred years ago have been recorded for us to peruse for out edification and enjoyment. That was when the last century turned; we remember Oliver and Wilber, Edison and Tessa, Bell and Morse, and if we did real deep maybe a few more we can dig up before we have to drag out the books, or look it up on the Net, but who know the conductor of the train that carried Edison to his first job, the ticket taker, his wife, their children, and on and on of all the people who are not even in the dustbin of history. But if they had not carried their load then there would be nothing for us to pass on to the generations to come.
I do not expect to be remembered beyond my children and maybe my grandchildren. The way that families, my family anyway, are dispersed across the face of the earth it might be a stretch to hope that even our grand children will carry a memory of us after we pass from this earth. Most of us will never have fame or wealth, we will, for the most part, do well enough, live a good life, do nothing remarkable and pass away without leave hardly a bit of our span on earth.
However, though we have little chance of making a big splash in history, we do contribute to the structure of now, and it is in the now that we grow from childhood into adulthood, and on into the twilight of our being. Like cells in a body we help make out society healthy and strong with the way we live our lives and getting old is no reason to withdraw from life. I still work and play to the best of my ability, offer my opinion to the youth who tend to dismiss my words as the ramblings of an old man, but some hear and learn to look at something in a different way.
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