Quiet. Solemn. Unapproachable. No one remembers as I do.
Climb the mountain of age, and those who climbed with you
Succumb to time’s motion of pause. Stop. The end.
Before too long, you find, and I’ve heard this from those that are there.
There’s no one to walk Memories Road with you. Alone. You feel it.
Before too long, there will not even be you. The end.
Yesterday, I chatted with my aunt, who turns 89. Her older sister turned 90 back in May, and the younger sister was 86 last April. Reaching such advanced years for anyone is remarkable, but I thought about the three having pockets of memories that came from proximity. Closeness. Family. Life. Add the spouses and extended families. Suddenly you realize the encyclopedic lives they have walked—history books. Sometimes, fiction and adventure. Always, however, there are things I will never experience.
Throughout my blogging (career?), I’ve always painted pictures of my world. Some have similar memories due to age and proximity, but by the time I reach those very senior years, my life should encompass those that have gone before, plus my experiences.
I’ve said it for years. I’m not a journal writer. At least not in the sense of what I write not being read by anyone. There are no secret thoughts, at least on paper or the web! SeaTec Astronomy, anyone? No anagrams, nor puzzles. Absolutely no secret code where your ring from the back of a comic book advertisement awaits your strategy. My writing is public. Any can follow my thoughts as my mind wanders the trails of the past.
We will all reach the time when we travel those last few miles alone.
My Mind Floats
Tiny minds will never know my world. Perhaps the middle year children of your youth will comprehend. But future generations will never understand if we do not find a way to share publicly. Encourage. Understand.
We each reach that stage where there’s no one to share the memories as “live and personal” because we all lived them together. But then?
Ike. JFK. Nixon. King. RFK. Grissom. Conrad. Glen. Seabrook. Baytown. Deer Park. Ace. Murvaul. Sandburr Ridge. Police Tri-cycle. English Racer. Swimming. Champion. School. Teachers. Kitty Sue. Best friends. Neighbors. Baseball. Sweethearts. Buddy. 14-foot Quachita with a 20 hp Johnson. Skiing. Apache. Falcon. Dart. Scouts. Red Tie. Galveston. Coins. Hug A Hug A Handful. Kentucky. Lookout Mountains. Carlsbad. Wahoo. Cokes. Marbles. Hardy Boys. Tom Swift. Dusty roads. Go-Cart. Craftsman. Galaxy 500. No area codes. Nor Zip, for that matter. 4-cent stamps. Silver dimes. Dr. Howard. Tidelands. Stitches, three different times. RC Cola. Purple Sweetarts. Peanuts with money. White Gas. White Sands. Attic fans. Clear Lake. Menard Creek. Lufkin. First Girlfriend. First Date. First Solo Drive. Casper, WY. Goodwill. Sears. Pasadena, Stinka–Dena. Ferry. Trail bikes. Camping. Garner. Easter. Livingston. Cousins. Family. Married.
I’m afraid I could go on for pages and screens.
Last Days
I’m stuck on the Apostle Paul, but his story is similar. His background, training, and belief system came under personal questioning. Then blinded, healed, saved, and commissioned, he accomplished much. When he reached the ending of his life, he did not reminisce, but I’m sure there were thoughts about walking that final trail alone. No one to share. His life? Perhaps too soon, it will be over.
Paul, on your last memory walk, did you agonize over the things not completed nor accomplished? Was there no one to relive your past? Were you all alone? He tells Timothy:
For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:
(2 Timothy 4:6-7 KJV)
I’m stuck with this thought. It’s a scriptural promise. I cling tightly to it. “He has said, “Not at all will I leave you, not at all will I forsake you, never!” (Hebrews 13:5, MKJV) If you track this backward, the Lord said the same thing in Deuteronomy 31:6.
Listen! He’s been saying this to us for a multitude of millenniums. Trust Him. He’s walking that Road with you! You are not alone.