Gene's Blog

A mountaintop view

I wasn’t planning to write tonight at all. But things happen in three’s and three unique little things this day lead me to share one other thing. This is the 11th anniversary of my youngest son’s most tragic mistake, in my view, in his, well, I’ll never know if he saw it as tragic or not. So I want to tell a little story tonight, of that night, it wasn’t the most striking moment of that day and evening but it has never passed from me and has been on my mind the past few weeks, so I’m going to talk about it here, for just a minute or two. Brandon and a young woman, Melissa, had had a, at that age, long relationship, they were so good together. She’d gotten pregnant in early January that year, both knew they were not ready to be parents and decided that she would not have that child. A couple weeks after that, they broke up. And a couple weeks after that, he died, at his own hand. I really liked her. I’d given her many rides home from our house and had come to know her in small ways. That night, when a lot of people were gathered there at the hospital, his friends, family, I needed a moment to just breathe. So I walked away from his last corner of the world and down at the end of this impossibly long hallway, I saw her standing all by herself. I KNEW what she was thinking, I knew she was afraid she wasn’t welcome and I knew why she was there – he’d pushed her away because he knew what he was going to do – and in an instant I knew what she needed, I walked as fast as I could to her and gathered her in my arms, we held each other crying. I said, Melissa, he’s finally done something neither of us can save him from. She just sobbed and asked if she could see him. I told her she was as welcome there as anyone in the world, she really knew him better then, than anyone, including me. I walked her through the crowd of people to his bedside and let her have a moment with him. I never saw her again. I know she was at his service but I don’t have any real memory of that day and I never went back to the church to get my copy of the video they made for us. I think sometimes of that grandchild that almost was. And I hope she’s found peace, love and happiness. I’m still looking.

So here, from Steve Goodier’s Life Support, a look at the world from the top of the mountain.

A MOUNTAINTOP VIEW

A police car pulled up in front of an older woman’s house, and her
husband climbed out. The polite policeman explained that “this elderly
gentleman” said that he was lost in the park and couldn’t find his way
home.

“How could it happen?” asked his wife. “You’ve been going to that park
for over 30 years! How could you get lost?”

Leaning close to her ear so that the policeman couldn’t hear, he
whispered, “I wasn’t lost – I was just too tired to walk home.”

These bodies become less cooperative as we age. For some, work becomes
less fun and fun becomes more work. One older friend commented, “I’ve
reached the age where the warranty has expired on my remaining teeth
and internal organs.”

But I like the spirit of Charles Marowitz. “Old age is like climbing a
mountain,” he says. “The higher you get, the more tired and breathless
you become. But your view becomes much more extensive.”

Atop the mountain, one has a better view of the world. One can see
above the differences that divide people. One can better see beyond
petty hurts and human fragility. Atop the mountain, one has a longer
view of the past and can therefore understand the future with more
clarity. Atop the mountain, one looks down on dark clouds of gloom and
despair and fear and notices that they are neither as large nor as
ominous as those beneath them would believe. It is also clearer that
however dark they may appear, they too, are fleeting and will someday
pass.

George Bernard Shaw said, “Some are younger at seventy than most at
seventeen.” I think it is because they have a broader outlook.

It will take a lifetime to climb the mountain, but, for me, the view
will be worth the journey.

— Steve Goodier

I’m glad Steve is so sure. Sometimes it seems I’ve glimpsed what he is talking about here. The world from another perspective. I think that is what the lights are about. It is understanding that escapes me. So far. I’ll keep working on that, thank you for sharing this moment with me, much love, gene