The life we miss

The first time I saw a body.

A flash of the ride that scared me so much I jumped out of line.

A few moments when I was 5 and my family took a break for traveling and had a picnic at a little park. I had potted meat. My sister had a banana sandwich.

Waking to the golden light in the hallway of my grandmother's house and hearing the sound of her and other people laughing and playing cards.

A zillion micro-images of my first love but the inability to tune in a good picture of her face.

The expression on my wife's face and the emotion I felt when my son took his first breath.

These are the kind of things that make up my consciousness, my soul. They are memories. And they often fail me.

They are imperfect and sometimes they lie.

They are over-rated.

A memory cannot hold you, or kiss you, or even make you feel the way you did then. A memory offers no chance of changing things, no opportunity to return, no hope of redemption, no resurrection of the dead.

Yet, we often live our lives as if our future recollections are the soul purpose of living. We take pictures of special events rather than enjoy the moment we are in. We wait until our children are older before we take them to Disney World. Why? Because they might not remember, later.

We console ourselves at times of grieving with the thoughts that at least we have the memories. There are even times in my life when I consciously, in the moment, tell myself to file a defining few seconds away because the memory is too important to ever let go.

What do you remember about 1997? 2003? 1986? 1979?

Enough to write a book? Even if you could fill the pages, would anyone read it?

What is our life worth?

Sometimes I envision a heaven (and a hell) where we can go back in time and relive ANY moment over again with 100% clarity. Even FEEL the same things.
I imagine that our life would be our after-life. The joys would be our heaven. The pain and the inability to change things would be our hell.

I can think of a lot of times I would love to have back, even as soon as yesterday.

Now, I say to myself and you: I miss you, though I never knew you at all.