Paradigm...
For the last three years, I have seen the world through the understanding that we will all die. I know that sounds harsh, but it's true. After my dad's death, nothing has seemed more real to me than the fact that we will all die. Nothing we do will last, nothing we do will carry on after, but, we will die, and that, my friends, will be the end.
This weekend, I flew out to California again to be a Godfather. My cousin, Valerie, gave birth to Baby Eli, and asked me to be his Godfather. He is eight pounds. Tiny, by most standards. I have been a Godfather before, but maybe it's because I'm more mature now, but the reality really hit me. This tiny little person has as much life, as much potential, as much of a future ahead of his as anything. I held him in my arms, and tried to rock him to sleep (to little avail) and was nearly at the point of tears. It's difficult to explain, really. My cousin, Valerie, is amazing. She reminds me of my sister, but...to me, she will always be Valerie, my crazy, funny cousin. But now, she's a mother.
Seeing her as such makes me realize that my own mother was once just like Valerie. I don't know if my mom was funny or crazy or any other adjective, but I know she was the youngest daughter. I was talking to my second oldest aunt tonight and realized that she still thinks of my mom as her parent's twenty-five year accident. To me, however, my mom was never a sister, a daughter, a friend...she was always just...mom.
It's strange for me this weekend. For the past four years, all I could see was the end. Something about being here at Eli's beginning really makes me see that each of us had the same start, and that from my start to now, I have so much to be thankful for, I am almost ashamed about how I let the end worry me. For how can one be here, around so much love, and family and history, while so many others lack, and worry about what may happen in the future? I have a family that is closer and more loving than so many others. And, my future, and my past, unlike so many others, has been so full of love and family, that me feeling anything but grateful for it is simply selfish and wrong.
I will post some pictures when I get back to school.
This weekend, I flew out to California again to be a Godfather. My cousin, Valerie, gave birth to Baby Eli, and asked me to be his Godfather. He is eight pounds. Tiny, by most standards. I have been a Godfather before, but maybe it's because I'm more mature now, but the reality really hit me. This tiny little person has as much life, as much potential, as much of a future ahead of his as anything. I held him in my arms, and tried to rock him to sleep (to little avail) and was nearly at the point of tears. It's difficult to explain, really. My cousin, Valerie, is amazing. She reminds me of my sister, but...to me, she will always be Valerie, my crazy, funny cousin. But now, she's a mother.
Seeing her as such makes me realize that my own mother was once just like Valerie. I don't know if my mom was funny or crazy or any other adjective, but I know she was the youngest daughter. I was talking to my second oldest aunt tonight and realized that she still thinks of my mom as her parent's twenty-five year accident. To me, however, my mom was never a sister, a daughter, a friend...she was always just...mom.
It's strange for me this weekend. For the past four years, all I could see was the end. Something about being here at Eli's beginning really makes me see that each of us had the same start, and that from my start to now, I have so much to be thankful for, I am almost ashamed about how I let the end worry me. For how can one be here, around so much love, and family and history, while so many others lack, and worry about what may happen in the future? I have a family that is closer and more loving than so many others. And, my future, and my past, unlike so many others, has been so full of love and family, that me feeling anything but grateful for it is simply selfish and wrong.
I will post some pictures when I get back to school.
Labels: Baby Eli
1 Comments:
And this knowledge you have--of birth and how full life is of hope and love and newness--isn't it more rich and meaningful because you also know about death and oblivion? I think that to hold these two things in our minds at once is just about the most powerful thing we can do.
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