The Three Guarantees I Hate About Being Alive
None of them are “negative.” They’re just inevitable, and if you don’t pay attention, they’ll turn into your reality without being prepared to handle them.
There are three things about reality I hate.
I’m not depressed, and I’m not writing this because I’m trying to be edgy or “doomsdaying” for attention. I hate these three things because they’re true, and they don’t negotiate. They don’t care how disciplined you are, how faithful you are, how much money you make, how “good” of a human you choose to be, how clean you live, or how hard you try to “stay present.”
These things are coming for you either way, and I hate that…
1. Love No More…
The first one is the one that makes my chest tighten if I sit with it for more than a few seconds, and it’s the fact that one day, either my wife or I will lose the other forever.
Jackie has been my girl since sixteen, and there is no love I’ve ever known that touches what I have for her.
Nothing has come close, nothing ever will.
The brutal part isn’t just the thought of death, it’s the thought of separation.
One day she’ll be gone from my life, or I’ll be gone from hers, and regardless of who goes first, the outcome is the same, the two of us are no more.
The world keeps moving, but the normal life we built, our jokes, our routines, our daily “babe, look at this,” our quiet comfort, everything gets ripped in half.
I’d like to think we find each other again somewhere on the other side of this life, and maybe we do; I hope we do…
But even then, it won’t be this.
It won’t be her in the room right now, it won’t be today, it won’t be the normal moments that feel so ordinary you don’t realize they’re sacred until you’ve lost the ability to live inside them another night.
2. Now They’re Separated
The second one is quieter, but it hits a tender part of my soul all the same, and that’s the awareness that my children will grow up, and they won’t live in the same home.
I’ve shared before how impressed Jackie and I are with the relationship our son and daughter have. They’re a solid duo, and they don’t just love each other because they’re supposed to; they actually rock with each other.
Our son talks to our daughter, our daughter talks to our son, and they game-plan their lives together.
They move through life like teammates, going out of their way to be there for one another, even when it costs them something.
Watching that bond form has been one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever witnessed as a father, and still, I know what’s coming.
One day, they won’t be in the next room.
One day, too soon, the house won’t have both of their voices bouncing off the walls, then it won’t have either of their voices...
One day, there won’t be the same dinner table, the same routines, the same “where are they? They’re with each other.” Even if they keep that bond as adults, and I pray that they do, there’s still going to be a day when they go to separate homes, separate lives, separate responsibilities, forever…
I’m not interested in convincing myself I’m cool with it just because it’s “how life goes.” I know it’s inevitable, but that doesn’t make it any easier, and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t suck just because it’s a healthy development and stage of life.
3. Another Amazing Moment Gone Forever
The third one sneaks up on you while you’re not paying attention, except that I’m hyper-aware of time and always paying attention to its passage, so I am well aware that all the good times come to an end.
I don’t mean just the big milestones, I mean the regular stuff…
The moments that feel like nothing while they’re happening, but become everything when you look back.
I’ve had this habit/ability for as long as I can remember. I attribute it to my mother’s suicide when I was six. It’s where I can separate myself from a moment while I’m still in it; not in a “disassociation” way, but rather in a “I can see what is going on above myself, as I am still present and in the moment.
I’ll be sitting there with my wife, laughing with my kids, or having a night with friends that feels alive, and a voice in the back of my mind will look over it all and whisper, "Enjoy this, because it won’t last."
I distinctly remember times when I’ve thought, “I wish this moment would never end, but I know it will.”
It’s happened in the military, at church, at parties, during random afternoons that weren’t supposed to be memorable, but somehow were. And every time I notice it, it feels like life is reminding me of the same brutal truth:
Moments are like footprints in the sand, and time is the tide.
It doesn’t matter how perfect the footprints are; the waves of time come in anyway, and after enough time passes, you can’t see them anymore.
All that’s left is whatever you managed to carry inside you, and whatever you were wise enough to appreciate while it was happening.
These Are Not Three Fears, They’re Three Aspects of Being Alive I Hate
They’re guarantees, they’re unavoidable, and you can do everything right and still be no different from anyone else. The quality of your time may be greater, but the experiences of losing your love, separating from your kids, and watching time pass will happen nonetheless.
You can be healthy, wealthy, intentional, disciplined, and deeply in love; still, reality will take its cut.
To be clear, I’m not writing this as an expert, and I’m not offering any solutions…
I’m not even trying to pretend I can tie this up with a neat little call to action and say these experiences are about “growth.” I’m writing it as a man admitting something; I hate that these things are true, and I hate how fast they become real.
Because one day you’ll kiss your wife and you won’t know it’s the last kiss.
One day, you’ll pick up your kids to carry them to bed, and you won’t realize it’s the last time you’ll have that quiet little moment.
One day, your son and daughter will be living somewhere else, and your home will feel bigger and quieter in a way you never asked for.
One day, you’ll look back on “the good times” and realize you knew you were in them, and there was nothing you could do to stop their passing…
My only recommendation (if you can even call it that) is, don’t overlook how quick the inevitable becomes reality.
Don’t wait until life rips something out of your hands before you start holding it as tenderly as you should. This is your warning, and it’s mine too; pay attention…
- Zachary Small
Nicely crafted essay. I agree with every word and if it is any help, which I know it won't be! ..I'm 51 and those 3 areas feel even more pressing and heavy. I can see why you like photography after reading this. Life is a gift but also a burden.