Some time ago I was rereading a favorite fantasy novel, "Nobody's Son", by Canadian author, Sean Stewart. Towards the end, I came across a paragraph that made me pause in wonder. In the book, Mark, is saying goodbye to his closest friend, who is returning to his own home to speak to his estranged father. The passage reads thusly: "How much of life is like this?...Is that what being grown up means? Saying goodbye as often as hello? More to wave back to with every step."
It's certainly true that introspection comes with age; as we move into the future, we find ourselves thinking back to decisions made, and the consequences long since weathered. Were they the right ones? Did we make a difference in the lives of others? What has become of those great friends we had in our youth? Have they achieved those dreams and goals decided upon in the heat of our youth? I've asked all of these questions at one time or another, and in some cases have even sought out the answers, which have always surprised me. More often than not, the people whom I thought 'had it all' not only didn't, but arrived at an unhappy end.
But making an end--waving goodbye to someone, or some part of your life--provides closure. It's a chance of finalize your relationship to that person or situation. A word unsaid, or a problem left undone rankles in the soul like a cramped muscle, affecting our lives and eating away at us until we can bear it no longer. Then we must settle the score, or see our lives unhinged by something that can only be settled by attending to it.
But more often than not, we find ourselves waving goodbye to friends and family; some who die, and others who move on to another stage of their life, which takes them away from us. Sometimes we find them again, but most often, we do not. In a loose moment, last month, I found myself wondering about a friend whom I'd not seen in 30 years. The last time I'd seen him, he was dressing for a date, and actually wearing a button-down shirt, which was unusual as I'd only seen him in T-shirts. So, last month, out of curiousity, I Googled his name, and found a picture of him on the staff of a university in Australia. According to the site, he'd received tenure a few years before. His face was heavier than I remembered him, but I recognized him instantly. Father of three, the site said, and I marveled at the changes in his life. We are now strangers, so I silently bade him goodbye, and closed the window.
Stewart's imagery calls to mind a slightly sad person, waving goodbye to his friend, but also to his childhood. In the book, Mark has faced down danger and a threat to his family, and is coming to terms with the fact that the rest of his life will likely be spent doing similar things. It's a very powerful moment in the book, because Mark is coming to terms with the direction of his life, and the likely events that he will encounter on his journey. He realizes that he can no longer take comfort in the stability of his childhood, but must move forwards into adulthood. But the childhood moments and the mistakes that he has made continue to pull at him, and he finds himself looking backwards.
The imagery is familiar, I'm sure, to many people. But there is a competing idea which I'm familiar with, which uses almost the same image, though different words.
Screenwriter J. Michael Straczynski put it this way, "We have to make people lift their eyes back to the horizon, and see the line of ancestors behind us, saying, 'Make my life have meaning.' And to our inheritors before us, saying, 'Create the world we will live in.'...Only by making people understand that can we hope to create a better world for ourselves and our posterity."
So, yes, there is more to wave back to as we get older, and leave our childhood behind. But, perhaps, when we drop our hands, we should turn and look to the horizon, see how best to lay the path that we and our inheritors must tread. The path itself doesn't go anywhere, after all, but we are the ones who must walk it.
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