On my way to my parents – a familiar road.
There may be a ragged gasp of life left in this blog. As always, there are a myriad of excuses for the lapse, but it’s a new year
It has also been a rather odd and off weekend.
Saturday, I attended a funeral service for a family member of a church friend. Funerals are never a place I want to be much less when it’s someone I know. It was a rough Saturday morning, I was visiting the church I grew up in and had left for the glitzy world and I felt for the grieving parents. After the internment, the church and family members gathered for a potluck where I had the opportunities to mingle and reminisce with my family and all the church friends that I had left behind.
There was such a heartfelt welcome from them and only genuine happiness was displayed at my visit. As I spoke to former babysitters, teachers, childhood friends, and mentors, I could only note how quickly the past 5-years have passed. Time has left a faint mark, but the smiles were the same.
There are now streaks of grey in the hairs of my parents and family friends. My former classmates are are out on mission fields or starting their own families. The little children that I used to push on the swings are now entering their teens. The little sister I used to adorn with soap bubbles while we washed dishes has just returned from a mission trip and is such a grown lady. The little brothers that I just taught how to ride a bike now stand at my shoulder height.
It sometimes feels like the past 5-years have been a blurry dream. When I’m living my current life, my previous life seems so far away and disconnected from reality. I can never forget, but as I live my normal life it’s easy for me to box and shelve the memories. Yet, the minute I step back into that little world, it seems like it was just yesterday, that I was such a part of the church. Maybe that’s why I don’t visit often, I don’t enjoy the flood of memories disrupting my normal flow of life.
Then this Sunday morning I received a call from my younger sister. I barely had to chance to say hi and express my surprise at the call before she broke down crying. She was sobbing as she explained that last Saturday she had dreamt of my death and funeral. In her dream, she was asked to read a poem but refused, instead requesting a song be sung for my friends in attendance. It was all so real to her and she told me all about it between her sobs.
I tried to comfort by telling her I was alive and well, but the thought of my death without returning to Christianity pained her deeply. I could only offer the faint solace that I loved her and wouldn’t take stupid risks, along with the promise to look up the lyrics to the aforementioned song (“Pass Me Not“).
Both days put a slight damper on my normal carefree life. My typical weekends are much different than this first weekend in 2014. Perhaps the best thing that that this weekend has does for me though, is that I am setting up my will. Not that I am reckless with life or believe in the stupid concept of YOLO, but I have had a couple close calls. Mostly though, I like to have things organized and setup. In addition, the last thing my family or friends should have to worry about, in the event of my death, is how to pay for the services or how my meager possessions are to be discarded.
I like to think practically, logically, coldly… but the events this past weekend, along with my making of a new friend a couple months ago, have sprinkled emotions into my heartless life. It’s probably a good way to start off the new year.
The Introvert's Perspective 