Cobble stoned River Streetat sunset in Savannah Georgia

Author’s Note: Dear Readers, We’re not on some wilding bunch road trip. We are mostly unchanging folk in an ever faster changing land — a bit out of step, place and sooner rather than later out of time as our sundown approaches. Suddenly, our days will be over. Hopefully, we’ll pass before the skies are bathed in blood.

-Marlow

On losing youth — ours, theirs, others

Eventually, we consume our fuel and silently pass, becoming cold and dark. Our matter evaporates into the void, but our place in the universe does not necessarily become a desolate cinder for the rest of time as others remember, memorialize and perhaps a few internalize what we said, did and/or stood for. A sort of terrestrial life everlasting.

As my youngest grandchild just launched from her nest upon her spring 2022 college graduation, this topic is a now-and-then drift of thought as life conveniently drops me off at new, unsuspected rest (in peace/pieces) stops along my elder journey. I try not to put on a brave or best face.

Like it or not, these (de)partings’re gonna happen, so I try to roll, not fight, with them, and understand, not reject, them But these stops were initially harder when it was the younger ones in my solar system departing orbit for distant places in firmaments of their own making. These passages included doors to kindergarten classrooms, freshman year college dorm rooms, airport terminal gates. summer camps, grand entrances to wedding chapels and, yes, even courtrooms.

It wasn’t just child, grandchild, sibling, parental or grand parental emotions of loss. Friends, peers, and mentors were also a large part of this odd mix of resignation, self-pity, anger, shoulda-woulda-coulda, and most certainly grief.

Natural and common it became only after a long while. It sucked as our smallish planets’ axes got seriously tilted and badly counter spun.

I for one have come to see these events as willful rainbow-colored feather extractions by huge unseen sky dwelling chicken pluckers.

The non-next-world departures had wonderful futures ahead of them. But in which my part diminished if not outright disappeared. I never realized until much later that my resulting ill feelings were my way of silently shouting “BOOOOO!”

Yes, it was selfish as I craved being the kindly, wise, and funny giant who held their hands, filled their view of the heavens, and endlessly told stories of yore. I came to accept my passing into their barely remembered but perhaps cherished shadows. Just another lesson of those in a long endless line of (re)learnings to be humble. We’re just short stages in each other’s journeys. And it is enough.

Sundown colors the US 17 bridge over the Savannah River

PS: As I increasingly shuffle along, I’m thinking about modernizing my footwear choices to something more now, youthful, comfortable and safe with a white sole; so, gentle readers, what say you to this candidate:

Copyright 2022 My Aisle Seat
www.vicsocotra.com