I got a text from a friend who recently went home on a sentimental journey. He visited old haunts, the house they lived in and his old school. Flooded with memories of the past and ruefully reviewing his present state of affairs, he was hurting. Not everything had gone as he had hoped; nothing went according to plan. Does anything
ever?
“I wish I could come back and do it over,” he said. My heart ached for him. I know the feeling too well.
It is difficult to find the right words to offer comfort without sounding all older and wiser. Why does one learn a little too late?
It is funny how, with the passage of time, some memories fade in silence, while others scream at you asking, “Why?”
Too often I have wished for a way to retrace the path, erase the footfalls that strayed and follow the signs I ignored. Foolish thought.
We are told time and again that the thrust of life goes only forward, that it isn’t wise to linger in the past; that dwelling in what used to be is heartbreakingly futile. Regret is a dead-end road and serves no purpose.
Flashback
But just for now let’s play “flashback”!
What particular event in your life is worth a “take two”? I hear myself like a Hawaiian cheering for a “hana hou” one more time.
My list is not too long. It has been a fantastic journey so far, but it is difficult to pick out the highlights. Let me start.
We are on a dark country road in a VW van headed for San Francisco from Las Vegas. The night sky is studded with stars. I look at the heavens and catch a glimpse of God at work. We stop the car and watch in awe.
The horizon is red. It widens and the sky above turns a deep purple, now indigo blue, then a fiery magenta. Shafts of pure gold pierce the night and scatter the stars. I have witnessed a breathtaking spectacle, the birth of a brand new day.
Did I miss anything? Do it again, God!
Years later, on a side street in Reno after a long sleepless night, I feast on the lavish colors of autumn and finally find renewed hope walking under a canopy of trees festooned in red and gold. Beautiful!
San Francisco Bay. I am up before the sun so as not to miss the thrill of sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge. I brave the cold and climb up to the captain’s bridge, a rare treat. I take my 3-year-old twins with me in case some day they remember. Alas they don’t.
A windfall
A friend remembers winning the lottery. The prizes then were not like they are today, but it was still like manna from heaven. The pot was a cool $2 million.
For several years, she and her husband had bet the same numbers and purchased the ticket at the same drugstore on the way to work. They never won a thing. Then one day, it happened.
When the man from the lottery office called with the good news, her husband said some nasty things telling him this was a sick joke and not to call again. Instead he was given a number to call. He did.
This was a long time ago, but my friend still tears up when she tells the story. “All I could think of was the house mortgage, our car loan, and all our debts paid in full and college assured for our children. It was like a dream, only better!”
I asked a young woman, divorced and trying to find her life all over again. She remembers the joy of having her first child.
“No, I don’t want a repeat of the pregnancy,” she laughs. “But nothing beats the awesome reality of birthing a new life.”
One last embrace
In late February this year I flew to Sydney. My specific purpose was to chat with my oldest cousin to learn about our family and meet, in a manner of speaking, the characters from the generations before mine.
I was certain that no one else could fill the blanks, much less answer my questions. I planned in a hurry. In my heart I knew time was of the essence.
I visited him and his wife in their cozy retirement home. At 94 he looked frail. I should say fragile. But his mind was clear and his impeccable wit had not tarnished one bit with the years.
I was astounded by his vivid recollection of people and events from the past. His stories about the war were vivid and graphic.
He brought out his handwritten journal for me to read. He even allowed me to take it home for a couple of days.
I sat with him six or seven afternoons, a total of a little over 20 hours. What a privilege it was to learn our history listening to the words of a man I looked up to even as a little girl.
It was exciting to delve, dig and discover little known family tales, some funny, others tender.
Our last day was sad. I said, “I will see you again soon.” His smile was tentative. He said: “You think?” Then he whispered, “Te quiero mucho.”
We hugged. We knew it would be our last. I saw him brush away a tear.
Vicente “Titoy” Razon celebrated his 95th birthday last October 6. There was cake. His wife and children were with him.
All his life, Titoy brought love, laughter and music wherever he went. On Oct. 23, surrounded by his loving family, Titoy went home to be with Jesus. Today, Heaven is a happier place.
