The End of an Era
One of the great things about childhood is that there are no ends, just beginnings. There is no time in your short lifespan to develop an attachment great enough to miss, really. I once had a cat named Pepper. I loved that cat and one day, I realized that he wasn't coming home again. I cried until my parents came in to quiet me, and I swore I would never forget that cat. I pictured him as I last saw him, sitting in the garage doorway, and I decided that if every night I remembered that picture of him then I couldn't ever really forget him. It worked. I still have that mental image of that silly little cat seared into my mind. Almost ten years later I picked out a little, smelly (yes, smelly), spikey, disheveled kitten from a box of lovely ones because he looked like that cat.
But the loss of Pepper didn't really hurt. Sure I cried myself to sleep one night, but I can't remember even thinking about it the next day. I never cried over a cat after that. When I was twelve my grandfather died. I didn't really know him, and I always felt like I should have cared about his loss more, but I didn't. He was a man who was distant and uncommunicative (we didn't know about the cancer that killed him, nor the Christianity that saved him till he died of the former), and so I didn't even cry at his funeral.
Now, a grown up heart, that sucker can hurt. It can ache for months, even years. It can suffer the end of an era and never fully recover, and yet eras go by, seemingly uninterested in what they do to us grown-ups. School, jobs, and houses change, people move, relationships fade into nothing, and the poor heart must keep on going.
For me, I am realizing that part of growing up is living with sadness that can't be fixed by a new kitten or a good night's rest. Sometimes things will be bad, they will hurt, and there is nothing that can change that. On second thought, maybe being grown-up is knowing how to move on, how to grow past the past and keep on plugging away. Eras may come and go, but the mature heart knows that a new one is coming and it brings a fresh joy.
Show me the next era and teach me how to hope in it.
But the loss of Pepper didn't really hurt. Sure I cried myself to sleep one night, but I can't remember even thinking about it the next day. I never cried over a cat after that. When I was twelve my grandfather died. I didn't really know him, and I always felt like I should have cared about his loss more, but I didn't. He was a man who was distant and uncommunicative (we didn't know about the cancer that killed him, nor the Christianity that saved him till he died of the former), and so I didn't even cry at his funeral.
Now, a grown up heart, that sucker can hurt. It can ache for months, even years. It can suffer the end of an era and never fully recover, and yet eras go by, seemingly uninterested in what they do to us grown-ups. School, jobs, and houses change, people move, relationships fade into nothing, and the poor heart must keep on going.
For me, I am realizing that part of growing up is living with sadness that can't be fixed by a new kitten or a good night's rest. Sometimes things will be bad, they will hurt, and there is nothing that can change that. On second thought, maybe being grown-up is knowing how to move on, how to grow past the past and keep on plugging away. Eras may come and go, but the mature heart knows that a new one is coming and it brings a fresh joy.
Show me the next era and teach me how to hope in it.
posted by Cate at 1:23 AM
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