When I woke up this morning and went about doing my business, one of which is to check my Facebook account, I had a mild surprise awaiting me.
Facebook threw up picture of me and my husband from 4 years ago, asking me to share it with my friends. It was a sweet memory of me and he, lovingly hugging each other, equal parts merriment and naivete, and a gigantic bad-ass attitude hanging about us.
But what really struck me was not how young we looked, we almost still look that way (give or take a few pounds), but how unburdened we looked. Like we didn’t have a care in the world. Like all we needed to do was just be and everything else – bills, jobs, taxes, relationship squabbles… life, would just fall into place on its own. It was an ‘I don’t give a damn‘ picture.
And that’s what we’ve lost – the capability to shove our worries in the backseat and cruise through life.
(Note, I said -shove, not throw. The worries were still there but they didn’t preoccupy our minds as much as they do now.)
That’s when this little piece ignited my fingertips to grieve textually –
Ah, those days,
When mirth shimmered,
And shone through our eyes,
And lusty life,
Was a slave at our feet.
Ah, those days,
Gone and replaced,
By careworn laughlines,
And worries nestled in our bosoms,
Instead of our hearts beat.
It’s not the ageing that I loathe. I had long ago accepted the fact that everything must age and die. But its the loss of that child within who wants to eat cotton candy without a fear of cavities; the loss of that rebellious teenager who only wants to headbang to music and talk Faust and Van Halen; the loss of that fiery adult who can work all day, party all night, and still have so much leftover energy sizzling within that he can light up a town.
It’s the loss of zest for life I lament.
Try as I may, I can’t shake the feeling that a lot of myself has been left behind, replaced by another me who wants to worry about trivialities, wants to slow down, wants to trudge along living each day like the one before and actually craves sameness.
What do you call this? Not being old, physically, but being aged within?
I don’t know, but I certainly don’t like it. Some of you may say – change you attitude. Yet some may quip – age is just a number. And yet others may say – you can still do all of that. But the truth is – you can’t. Somethings are meant to be savoured at the right time and point in our lives. Beyond that, it becomes an oddity, and your body itself will coax you to stop. Like mine. No matter how much I try now I can’t party all night, or headbang without getting a crick in my neck, or take impromptu vacations, or not work without worrying about how to pay the bills, because you can’t live off biscuits and canned soup anymore. That’s the simple truth.
So maybe all of us are meant to come to this point in our lives when we have to let go, stop resisting, stop grieving for this ‘loss of ourselves‘… but I’m not ready yet. Because I’m still lamenting the loss of days gone by….still staring at that picture wistfully….
©Pradita Kapahi, 2016.
Picture Credits – http://www.pixabay.com