As we grow up, go through life and get older, there are certain things we leave behind. Material things, emotional things, certain people and generally things we just ‘grow out of’ as they say. Moving forward into a different time in our lives, which require different things or emotions to work through them or experience them fully. I believed it was a natural process, just like mentioned in Walking Away, when something has run its course and is no longer necessary or relevant to the person you have become. These days though I am not so sure it is a natural process, and may never have been, because we are often trapped by things that mean we are not able to let things go about their natural course.

The difference perhaps being similar to when you have a natural flowing river, compared to one that has to change course because of obstructions, or is unnaturally steered into a straight narrow, or restricted. The flow changes and becomes different, still water and a river, but altered and now on an alternative path. And we, as with the water, keep flowing to our end point, over the bumps and round the blind corners, sometimes dropping down a great way over a waterfall. To then carry on the steady path, or stop in a side pool for a bit, watching the faster flow go by.

And when we do get to our end point, and a marker is left to signify an existence, we put information on that marker. A headstone or memorial, usually noting the length of time someone was here, and who they were in a family, or meant something to. I’m sure there are others that note something more elaborate, but on the whole it’s that. Because at the end of the day, when you are gone, people don’t seem to care to remember how much money you made each year, or what awards you won, or how many books you sold on that cold hard slab of commemoration. It’s the days of your birth and death, giving away your age and maybe a hint at what may have happened. And a few words maybe about how you and your death were viewed. Taken too soon, lived a good life, was a loving husband or wife and so on. Or nothing extra of note, just the specifics and that’s it. And that’s where people and memories will hold that information instead.

So, it’s not just parts of our own lives we leave behind as we go through it, we leave an imprint on others too. The good and the bad can leave their mark and linger, not always to be remembered long term, and memories can fade and eventually people are forgotten or would never have been known were it not for that stone header. Mostly, of course there are those who leave a darker mark, or a brighter trail than others in their wake and become a tale of time, handed down for good reason. But when for the most part, it appears you have a set time, and it will be people that think of you. So, what you do with that time, and who you spend it with would appear to be more important than how many hours you worked or how many times you got promoted. Lots of people say they missed their children growing up because they worked so much, or they missed family life due to corporate life taking over, or being put to the forefront.

And I understand the initial bind, without stability, there is no homelife, so it is seen as a means to an end, work hard to spend time with loved ones. But because you end up working so hard for your loved ones, you miss out on actually being with them. Some didn’t fall for that corporate trap, and found a balance or lifestyle that suits being able to earn a living, and enjoy living at the same time. Not waiting until later to enjoy it as many have, because life doesn’t wait or come knocking for you usually, and time doesn’t stand still. Things will change and move on, life will happen and you will get older and we like to believe wiser, people will come and go from your life and some will be remembered and some won’t, just as some will remember you, and some won’t. So, take a moment to realise what is it is you do, what you are here for, and who you might mean something to, and just what it is as you leave behind as you go through life…

(c) K Wicks