Joy and Pain

In Marcel Proust’s book In Search of Lost Time, the narrator bites into a Madeleine, and the memories from his entire youth come rushing into his troubled mind. He is flooded with memories of things he had forgotten, and the novel begins with him describing these recollections.

I had a similar experience yesterday when I found out my friend Sam had died in a car crash. I thought back on so many crazy times we had over the years, and took a very bittersweet journey into my own memory bank, which resulted in a great deal of both laughter as well as tears. Like the old song said, Joy and Pain, opposite sides of the same coin. When we choose to really pursue this adventure we choose both. That’s the rub…

About a year or so ago something hit me, and that was that I always seem to appreciate things a lot more when they’re in the rear view mirror. I complain about insignificant details, neglect to nurture friendships, and dream of my future escape into the next episode of my life. Then six months later I wax poetic about all the good times and great friendships I had ‘back in the day”. My memory becomes magically transformed ...I’m quick to forget the bad and remember the good. Maybe it’s my way of rationalizing that the time I invested had value. But a year ago I started to rethink all of this…

You see, I was living like the lead character in the incredible Hulk. Wandering from place to place, getting involved in people’s lives, forging significant bonds, and then leaving as fast as I came…Always starting fresh, always making wonderful new friends, until the cycle repeated again. But then as I say, I had an epiphany. I realized that nearly half of my life was over, and I had left nothing but a big beautiful wake. Lots of memories but no lasting relationships. Here is when I started to change. I’m still struggling to change.. To tell people what they mean to me, and that our time together had value. That they will be remembered. That they added something significant to my life. That I was forever changed from having the privilege of having them in my life. Christ this made me squirm….But I forged ahead……

So my friend Sam knew how I felt about him when he died… I told him.. This is weird for guys.. We are creatures of the playground and you can get beat up for things like this.. But still, I did it, and it was something that gave me a great deal of comfort yesterday as I thought about the things he had added to my life.

So I guess the moral of the story is, tell people what you have to tell them. The only thing stopping you is the policeman in your head, and really, fuck him.. That is fear, and if you go to the grave with it, a lot of your life will have been wasted.. Say the funeral stuff to people while they’re still alive, I guarantee you they’d love to hear it…I did…it was hard.. But I did, and I can tell you it provides a great deal of solace… Life is fleeting and impermanent. My friend did not know last week when we were exchanging jokes about St. Patrick’s Day that he would be dead in less than a week. But he had slain a lot of his fear, and my last memory of him will be a happy one…There’s no what ifs between us, and I have learned a great deal about friendship as a result of this experience..