Obituaries. Threnodies. (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the World)

I recalled some memories from high school. (oops)

I thought about good things and good people and about things I did or said. I thought about how different I am now than I was. I thought about how the things that so informed my decisions and gave context to my actions are so much different now. And while what they used to be has certainly shaped me, I know how distant I am from them.

And I wonder how different things would have gone if who am I now

were the me back then.

I wish it were.

(And I think it’s a great thing that I can honestly say I wish it were, though it might be who I was more than who I am.)

What really hit me, though, is that it’s likely everyone else has changed too. Not just because my perspective of them would be different because I’m different, but really legitimately changed.

It’s kind of a sad thought. I mean I lost all of those people.

I miss those people.

Those people don’t really exist anymore; new people have taken their place.

And while that’s not necessarily a bad thing because growth and development are good things, it’s strange no longer knowing those people that were so significant.

So, a threnody for those lost in the tides of time (i.e. most everyone):

There was so much between us

during such good times.

And there was so much between us

when times weren’t as good.

And I think you should know

that I would do it again.

And I think you should know

that I want to.

“And of all these friends and lovers

There is no one compares with you.”

All this is not to say

that there’s nothing to today,

but I like that I like my memories.

People come and go.

They always have and always will.

Thoughts, beliefs,

hope and dreams,

they change too.

The context of your life

is all that you’ve got.

And as that changes,

so shall you

(it would be wrong not to).

So I try evermore to

find contentment,

to learn to stop worrying

and love the world.