Life · philosophical · writing

The realization of not meeting again is making me miss you more.

http://kids-myshot.nationalgeographic.com/photos/view/27184/vintage-memories-shot-by-zoetrope

It’s true- life is cruel. It brings people together briefly and then pulls them apart with an air of finality they cannot argue against. Life is like a toddler’s parent. The toddler might refuse to part with an old toy or argue incessantly for an ice-cream cone that its parents might refuse in an admonishment that carries an air of superiority with it: I know better. You cannot have it and that is the final decision. The child does not know why and is not interested in knowing why. It wants what it wants. That is not to say of course, that all such parents always have their child’s well-being at heart. Life could just as easily be the sort of parent who is a junkie and couldn’t care less about what the child does, as long as it is out of his way. Life may not be well-meaning, it may just be.

With time memories are covered with a sheen of blessed haze that makes it harder to remember details, recall events in flesh and blood through the mere act of closing one’s eyes. This is not the case when these memories are as fresh as they are right now. They will fade- transience is the only timeless truth we can fully embrace. It is sad that they must, though.

I don’t know how I expected adieu to be. I know I’ve spent time in the past imagining the final goodbyes but then pushed them out of my head with the certainty that they were still in the distant future. As they drew closer, I chose to block out all emotions completely and that stayed with me until the very end and perhaps even through it. That is why I was laughing when I didn’t want to and asking myself ‘how stone-hearted can you be?’

Because I knew once the moments were gone, sadness will just remain a constant echo. For a few days it would be a steady stream, then it would reduce to a pulse ad finally it would fade into tiny stabs of pricking hurtfulness aimed at everything I’d had and lost. There is no other way to it. There is nothing to do right now but sift through the sometimes haunting memories. It isn’t even a reality yet. But it will be.

So what kind of memories are better– the fresh ones I have right now or the ones I will have a few years down the line when, browsing through my Facebook photos I would come across a picture that will take me back to things and people and places I would no longer be able to claim to ‘know’?

I can only say that for now, it all feels painful. But with time and acceptance, the same memories will just be sweet recollections, less hard to behold and easier to delve into. Reminiscing is a part and parcel of existence and it will only grow bigger as we grow older and leave the golden phases further and further behind. It’s possible to smile and simmer but impossible to hang on and bleed.

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