Wednesday evening – something for everyone.
Our home is likely similar to yours. Favourite television programs each week are pre-recorded for leisurely fast-tracking through commercials. Wednesday evening for us is a downer if the three Chicago programs (Med, Fire, PD) don’t offer a new episode.
A fine example of high-level negotiation, my wife and I give each other space to watch Chicago Med (her) and Chicago PD (me) alone without interruption. Of course, each of us wonders ‘what the other sees’ in their respective favourite program. And we meet in the middle to watch Chicago Fire together. This is something we could take to marriage counselors looking for keys to success.
So, what about Nostalgia on life?
Between the three programs, pretty much everything that happens to people through the span of a lifetime is portrayed in a vivid and engaging manner. I just watched an episode of Chicago PD that brought me to tears which, to be honest, is not that hard to do these days. My hard outer shell has gradually been shot full of holes as I face the landscape of aging and philosophical reflection on life.
Adam, one of the detectives, has been dealing with his father progressively losing the battle with dementia. At this point, Dad needs pictures on a board with names attached to know who is visiting him. And, even with that assist, he fades in and out of recognition of his own son. Memories are gone.
When Adam has a fall and concussion with memory loss, he must slowly find his way back to the details of a criminal case. Along the way, Adam has flashbacks to his own childhood and his father as an active, loving agent in his life. As the episode closes, and Dad is near his end of life, Adam takes his hand and says, “You can let go, Dad. I will remember everything for both of us.” With one final breath, Dad sighs and is gone.
That moment brought back a powerful memory for me. My father had a major stroke. Emergency Department staff knew what was coming and graciously allowed our family to occupy a private room as long as we needed. Dad’s chest was rising and falling as he struggled for breath. My sister gently placed her hand on his chest and said, “It’s all right, Dad. You can let go. We’re here.” And he relaxed and was gone.
I had to pause for a few minutes after writing that paragraph. A wave of emotion. Memories in multiple directions but overall tinged with a deep sense of loss and regret.
I’m not very good at dwelling on the past and things I can’t change now. I try to focus on the present to cultivate a lifestyle of continual learning and growth. But with the no-guarantees of older age, I also realize the future is coming. One question helps to frame my thoughts –
“If I knew I had only one or two years left, how would I use the time?”
For each of us, the answer will be influenced by our current place on the journey of life. College student? First career? Just married? First child? Middle age with growing family? Final years in career? Just retired? Loss of spouse? Increasing infirmities of old age? Diagnosis of terminal disease?
Again, depending on all the variables in a person’s life at the time, their answer to the question will be some combination of ‘just carry on,’ ‘let go,’ or ‘reach out.’
Just carry on.
Day-to-day responsibilities (e.g., caring for small children), as well as one’s personal orientation towards life itself, may cause someone to hold steady and just carry on, at least as long as physically able. For some people, a denial of new realities may be part of this response. Or, it might include a renewed appreciation for the blessings and relationships of life. And, the opposite could also happen – a shrinking of perspective into simple endurance in a robotic manner, which leads to my second suggestion.
Let go.
After processing the situation, this response is a shutdown of all or much of prior normal activity. It may be a ‘giving up’ on life or a ‘giving in’ to new realities that suck out the desire for life. I don’t see much nostalgia, or even wistfulness, in this response. The suffering person is figuratively picking up their cards, pushing back from the table of the game of life, and retreating into the shadowland of self-imposed banishment. The attitude behind this response is “It’s not worth trying.”
Reach out.
Here the lens shifts from the present situation to what is potentially still out there. After a review of new realities, this person may engage with a ‘bucket list’ of things always hoped for but not yet fulfilled. The remaining time, and ability to use that time fully, are focused on refilling the draining cup of life, as long as possible, with purpose and enrichment.
No judgment.
There is no judgment behind any of the above descriptions. We cannot force or foretell how any person will respond to harsh new realities in life. And we dare not impose some external structure of assessment on them or how they are processing their situation.
Nostalgia on life.
Any of the responses will be influenced by our ‘nostalgia on life’ – how we remember, process, and are influenced by all past experiences. Each one of us is a testimony to the truth of John Donne’s poetry: “No [one] is an island entire of itself; every [one] is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.” How we process that connection is a major driving force of life, how we live it, and how we leave it.
What is ‘nostalgia’?
The word itself comes from Greek nóstos (homecoming) and álgos (pain). A Swiss physician, Johannes Hofer, coined the term in 1688 to describe the disease of extreme homesickness suffered by soldiers. Recent psychology has redefined nostalgia as not a disease but a normal psychological state that can be a positive resource for self-esteem, personal mood, and social connections.
Each of us processes life in our own way. Nostalgia may be sentimental, sometimes bittersweet. As a longing for a special time or place or person in the past, it often brings a mixture of joy and sorrow. And an awareness that the memory is forever in the past, never to be replicated or restored in the same manner.
Nostalgia is a normal human expression of response to all the combinations of sweet and sour, joy and sorrow, that tag along with the journey of life. And it has the power to make us bitter or better. It would be so easy to conclude glibly by saying, “The choice is ours.” Oh, if it was only that simple.
Ah, it’s Wednesday evening again.