My grandson perused through the photos on my phone, bored by the rainy weather that kept him from fishing in our pond.
“Oh, look at this one.” I said as I hit the little arrow on a video that popped up. It showed two small boys, arms out wide in a pretend flight as they hurtled down a grassy slope, waving and laughing at me.
“That’s when we were friends” Colin said with a tinge of sadness. I turned my head and looked at him as he faced away from me and looked out the window. As a parent, I know that kids argue and fight. As a grandparent, it hurts my heart. Not because they don’t love each other, but because time is short and everything feels like it’s moving way too quickly to be angry for long. The young haven’t learned what many of us have, when you lose someone there is no getting them back. There is nothing so final as death and the thing is, we are all going to die. That is a fact.
In this era of social media, we have lost our connection to each other. There is no nuance, there is only words, thrust out into the world with no context, no color, no voice. We now communicate with emoji’s to give our conversation a feel. I’m appalled. We don’t really see each other any more. We don’t talk and we don’t listen. When did this happen? We make large, sweeping generalizations about groups of people so that we can “understand” them better but we don’t ask the questions, or sit and discuss anything. When did we become so lazy with our lives and with each other?
When I was eleven, I lost my younger brother. He was two years younger than me. We fought at home but heaven help anyone that picked on him at school. I was his protector, punching one poor kid right in the stomach when he picked on Sheldon. He and I were friends. His loss was profound for me and for my family. Our community and church came together to help us. We had meals brought to our home for over a month from kind neighbors and friends because that’s what a community does.
We have become a lonely people with all of our devices attached to our hands and white plugs stuck in our ears. We don’t want to socialize with the people in front of us because it’s much more intriguing to engage with people we can’t see. We can fight without consequences with strangers, or better yet, people that aren’t even real. We can engage with people that see the world exactly as we see it, strangers all lumped into a group. We don’t have to re-think our assumptions because there are ten-thousand other people telling us we are right. Isn’t it always better to be right than happy?
Life is short and no matter how you go about it there is a timeline. In the beginning there is life, a middle and an end. That’s it. We are all somewhere on the path while we pretend that it will never end. When you become older, you start to realize that no matter what you do, you will end up in the same place as everyone before you. Your life will end. How you live this life is the only choice you have. Happy or sad?
I’m making an effort to meet with friends on a weekly basis for lunch. I’m trying to get more involved in my community. I want to listen more and talk less. Yes, I really mean it. When I receive a gift, I’m using it, reading it or wearing it. I’m picking up my pencil and putting my devices away. I’ve given up on trying to change peoples minds about anything. I want to be a friend more than I want to be right.
As my grandson turned back to look at me, I said “You know your brother loves you right? He will always love you. This is just part of growing up.” He nodded, but looked unconvinced. “Trust me, I’m old.” He laughed.
“How many pictures do you have of us?” He asked as we continued on while I pushed play on the next video.
“Lots and lots of pictures of you and your brother.” I said, as I wrapped my arm around his shoulder.