Nothing Lasts

It is probably one of the most pessimistic things to say, but it also happens to be one of the truer facts of life, no matter what we try to convince ourselves. Even the greatest artists of old, whose names have been lost in time, their work outliving the very spelling it was first written in, could not argue this.

Their work may stand, aged but present and yet we all know that those works of unique art will one day be nothing but the dust that can barely even stir one’s memory, reminding us of its existence.

We are no different. In fact, I sometimes think maybe we are even somewhat worse off. Today I may proudly state, with utter conviction to eternally love those dear to me with every fiber in my existence, but inevitably my flesh will fade from the physical and I will be nothing but a memory and though the strength on my conviction can carry with that memory, it won’t be long before, like those artist, I will be nothing but an echo of things once past. My great grandkid’s wouldn’t even care if I had seen the sun, let alone held a strong conviction to those who mattered to me.

And honestly, who could blame them? My conviction was nothing of theirs, but the sayings of an ancestor and those works of art? They were, are and hopefully for some time will be the voice of beauty and the vision of creativity and individuality, but not for everyone. Not for us. Those voices belong to artists that Google know better than most learned individuals. Those are the stories and footprints left by another, for us they are just scenery and we all know that eventually the scenery we see changes and rarely do we see the same again.

So, nothing lasts, a sad and happy truth. Happy, because troubles have an end and that light will soon emerge from the tunnel. Sad, because there is so much we wish never stopped and yet it is made even more so precious because of its inevitable end.

But what does it all matter… is what I would have loved to ask and kept on asking for far longer than I am able to, but… nothing lasts – not even the delusion we hold to of being in a state of confusion, blinded by the ongoing change around us and as all things must, those blinders come off and we are left open to it all, now we just have to deal with it.

I always knew it would happen, it’s not like it came as a surprise. It was one of those things you even hoped would eventually happen. The problem was, it eventually did and I was left with the realization that, though I had hoped and expected and waited for this to come along and finally ‘happen’, I did not have the things I needed to deal with the after effect.

It’s like knowing you live in a hurricane state and hearing about the ‘dangerous’ activity in the area and hoping the thing comes close by so you could see what’s it like, because you know, you’ve never seen one before… and then BAM, you’re caught in the disaster and you figure out at the last minute you haven’t secured your house and dog, whose just been sucked into the eye of the storm, and on top of it, you don’t have any resources for the aftermath, like food and medicine. Ultimately, you’re left standing on the front porch, overwhelmed and underprepared, looking at this disaster, you basically called I might add, and you realized your screwed.

Well, that’s how I feel as I watch my brother drive off to meet his girlfriend for their umpteenth date in barely over a month of being together.

Don’t get me wrong, I like her. She’s perfect for him in a way I never thought I’d see anyone be for him and I am truly happy for their relationship, he really does deserve it. However, I never knew that them being together meant I lost my brother. Being the close siblings that we are, I always knew this situation would be difficult, so I had already prepared myself for when this happened. I am very good at stepping back and letting others be happy, it comes naturally to me, plus I am very aware of the ‘honeymoon’ period couples go through in the first phase of their relationship. I know that my time with him is second to their moments together, not really surprising.

But, I know when I am not wanted around to the point of annoyance. One feeling I knew better than I ever really wanted to, one feeling that I’d wish on no human being, ever. I never once, thought I’d get this feeling from my own brother. The most painful thing of all is that it is most likely a very unintentional thing. He probably has no idea he is doing it, or at least I’d like to believe that. But that makes it worse, because than that is a subconscious desire of someone who wants something so bad, but feels too uncomfortable to say it aloud, something I could at least deal with.

I am no stranger to rejection, I doubt there are any people left who are. But it’s never bothered me much because I always had those few precious individuals who made rejection just another experience in the real world, nothing more. But how do I recover when the one to deal me such indifference is one of the few I have carefully and painstakingly selected?

It’s not an experience I wish to relive anytime soon and so I do what I do best, I step into the shadows and wait. I wait for time to do its thing and take me away as it has those artists that even Google begins to struggle to recall. That place we know and yet can’t quite remember the directions to. That far off place where the dust of what once was, stirs in hopes of being remembered.

It could be the depression that clouds my thoughts as I contemplate these thoughts and try to find my way. I easily forget I have this ‘thing’ that drags me to the dark and soaks my thoughts, but even then I can’t find argument against them. I find too much sense in the senseless. The chaos of confusion makes sense and I cannot ignore the things that draw my attention, even if it draws it to the dust, fading it out into an echo.

I always knew it would happen, but I never expected it to happen like this. For so long I have lived in a world constructed by the very idea that everything would fall into place and I would find my footing where it would always be.

There would always be change, I knew that, but in all the change, there would still be me and the things I hold dear. I never factored in the change and it’s consequence on my dear ones. I never expected a change where I was not fully considered. I never saw a future where I would not be even a small significant piece in the lives of those who will forever be that for me.

I am left with a heart wrenching dilemma where I am forced to stand on my porch and look into the eye of the storm and see, up close and uncomfortably personal that… nothing lasts, not even the things we fight tooth and nail to hold onto.

It was always going to happen, one way or another, but even with that expectation, I never expected to be told I was not welcomed or expected to be around, in a manner like I have.

Everyone is young at some point and you argue and fight throughout your life. It’s to be expected. It is not strange for one sibling to say to another to ‘get out’, or ‘leave me alone’. These are the things said over years of knowing each other and having moments of youthful rebellion. However those words can transform with nothing but the slightest change in tone and pitch.

The same words, same sentence, but the way in which they are said, can be the small difference in a jovial come back and a regretful retort. As nothing lasts, so do too many things unwilling begin.

No one wants to be forgotten, even if it is through an echo of artwork spread across the aging walls of some degrading church or by illegible scribbling on brittle paper that will most likely never see the light of day again. We all hold the very human desire to be remembered. It is the undeniable proof that we have been acknowledged, that our existence was of value to another.

It might be because of that looming hurricane that we know comes our way, be it for change or destruction that we want to make our mark all the more desperately. We never really want to lose the things that make us feel ‘I was here’.

So I have to face the conclusion that I have always known, nothing lasts, but even so I hope to have made enough of an echo to remind those who leave me, of who I was and that I was indeed here. Despite the hurricanes, the treacherous flow of time and the inevitable way of things not even predictable, I strong hope to have at least hammered in one nail with my name on it.