It is said when one door closes another opens. Sometimes you don’t hear the creak, you just look up one day, and notice the door is open. Then you realize that all on the former side of the door is really gone forever, and you didn’t have time to say, “Goodbye.” The door closes and is locked forever. I lost a meat smoker a while ago and as I sat, and stared at the spot where it used to be I began to remember all the people who had sat around it in years past who are gone. It was as if the smoker had gone to join them. The closed door is like that smoker.
No matter how hard you fight it, things change, and if you don’t, then it’s time for you to be gone. You grow, or you die. It’s as simple as that, and it’s not a sad thing. Love hurts. Separation is harder to accept than death. Death is final. You accept it. As you stare down at the mannequin that was once your loved one you experience something we like to call, “closure,” but it’s only the acceptance of finality. With separation there is an illusion. You hold onto the smoke, but the smoker is gone. As years pass, and layer upon layer of new experiences are put upon memories you don’t smell the smoke as often, and little things begin to fade, as the soul fights to heal, and let go. You go back to familiar places, and at first you can almost reach out and touch, but then, one day, you wonder, “Touch what?” You are grasping for the smoke. Sometimes you know what love is, but there are other times when you don’t realize it had even been involved until the loved one is gone, then, suddenly, much later you find that you were thinking about them every day, then every other day, then once a week, month, and then not at all. That’s when you look behind you and understand the door is really closed, and the smoke is gone.
There are those who stand and wait for the door to open again, and never see the other door ahead, the new door that leads into a room they’d never before imagined. If you embrace this room you will live. If you stand and wait for the closed door to reopen, you will die. Oh, not all at once, just a little at a time. You begin to lose your humanity as you cling to fading memories that no one understands except you. And you are the only one who feels the pain. That pain will consume you. There are some things you should not overcome, should not live past, but there is so much more that you can live for. With each day, as the smoke fades, the air becomes clearer, and it’s not a bad thing to take a deep breath and go through the open door.
The smell of the smoke will never completely be gone, but it can be overcome or at least neutralized by the expectation of new things. Then, one day you’ll hear the door shut, and a new one will not open, and you’ll realize that you are the smoke for someone else, and there are no new doors for you, only people on the other side making the decision to walk away, or wait for the old door to reopen. If you left wisdom, hopefully they will find the words you gave them, and they will turn and walk away.
The night was late. There were few people there. The piano bar was about to close and only the loneliest were left, staring at the last call. The young lady sat down at the piano. Gently she began to play a simple tune. Nothing special, just a simple four/four time with a melody perhaps borrowed. Then, ever so softly she began to sing. As the words permeated the air the patrons sat up. She was a young girl, but the mileage in the lyrics was profound. Heretofore she was just the cute little girl who ate nachos at the bar, but her words would leave a taste in their mouths the gin would not hide. The memories filled her eyes and she sang:
Things that folks are made of
Like faith, and hope, and sometimes love
Things that make us act the way we do
I’ve got a theory in my head
It’ll be there until I’m dead
And, I’d like to pass my theory onto you
Life’s a circle we all know
There ain’t no new way to go
If you stay home you’ll probably be just fine
Broken dreams and empty chairs
We all face the fire down there
I hope yours burns cooler than mine.
I go there now and then, but the man said the music doesn’t play there anymore. That door closed a long time ago.
Simple Ol' Boy From Austin
No comments:
Post a Comment