Reflections and ramblings from 2024
Whilst we might think of memories as faithful photographs of the past, they are more akin to impressionist paintings — constantly reimagined through the lens of the present. — Rich Roll.
Approaching middle-age is an amalgamation of extreme personal events that hit you with such intensity and frequency, that you feel like you’re just constantly disoriented.
Pace of life just seems to be at a state where you’re frantically playing catch-up. There’s just no chance to kind of put your feet up and take a breath.
The milestones, damn, the milestones. They just keep racking up. One on top of another. Weddings, birthdays, farewells, graduations, the dog’s yearly vaccination, the kid’s end of term performance. What? It’s bin day today, already?
Something that will stay with me forever, is the image of my aging uncle saying farewell to my aunty one last time before she was laid to rest. When I think about them, it really is just that… it’s them. To me, their identities are inseparable. They have shared a relationship far longer than I have lived. There was this one brief moment where I felt my uncle’s heartache that was so intense that I also felt like my heart broke at that moment too. That was when he watched his soulmate lower into the ground, perhaps a goodbye for the last time in this life. But, just like a flower that blossoms out of the ground, that moment’s immense sadness also blooms the realisation of tremendous hope. That life is beautiful, and worth living. The more hurt it can cause, the more worth it is to push on. Thank you aunty, rest in peace.
When you interact with someone, and they invite you to something personal — like to their house for dinner, these types of ‘events’ can often be the byproduct of a delicate ecosystem built, grown, and nurtured, maybe for many, many years. I felt this at a Christmas party that my family was invited to recently — everything at the party — the house, the rooms, the lighting, the paint, everything down to the last details, were designed with intentionality. Each possession, feature, represented some sort of hope, desire, dream. The party felt spectacular in some ways, but I was ultimately left inspired that above the entertainment, that there was some sort of self-actualisation that was taking place in real-time. Like I was a part of a dream coming true for the hosts. Sort of like watching as a fan of your team winning the championship, it can also be really nice to be a witness to something great happening.
As a parent, I have experienced my heart growing and expanding, increasing its ability to love as well as toughen, and at the same time soften like butter. Case in point is this final phase of my daughter’s childcare — over the past three years, I had grown familiar with her friends and in turn, their parents. But now this is all ending, as my daughter and her classmates begin to transition into primary school next year. This has all been well known of course, yet, experiencing it has been somewhat more emotional than I’d expected. Perhaps, because there is a wider date range in which the children leave — some had their last day before Christmas as they venture onto a holiday before going to primary school, others will have a break across the new year and be back for another few weeks, etc. And so, each child will have their own ‘last day’ in this transition. Perhaps it’s easier to deal with a set date that everyone finishes up at the same time, though I’m not sure how I’m going to handle my daughter’s graduation and last day when she finishes primary school and beyond.
I’m not sure why it’s so much harder to take nostalgia these days. Maybe it’s hitting differently this time because I’m older — I’m actually wiser, and have lived a bit of life to know, to maybe appreciate that these moments are… too perfect, and by definition, will never be quite like this again. It might be better, but in all reality, it’ll never be the same again. Like saying, “we’ll stay in touch” is well intentioned, but likely to be lost to the currents of life. And I think that’s cool, that’s just part of life.
Life is sort of like moments. And whilst these moments are lived only once, it’s neatly stored away as memories that you can kind of reimagine again. And as you get older, it’s a nice, maybe even comforting feeling to know, even if conjuring these memories mostly feels melancholic, even if it is tinged in happiness. And yet, the overwhelming feeling is that despite these moments being so unique, so fleeting, that being able to live them, even if it sticks to you in a slightly uncomfortable way, for the rest of your life, is almost the only way to do it.
Run head first into it, experience it, bask in it, and appreciate that you just lived. And do it all again.
