For as long as I can remember, my dad has always had a sign that followed him wherever he went. It was a simple sign, painted on plywood that read “Life Goes On.” The original was hand painted with disjointed filigree and some kind of Technicolor berries surrounding the phrase. The current iteration is airbrushed, Bolivar Peninsula-style (if you know, you know).
I’ve always thought of the phrase as a way of saying “Oh well”—kind of a flippant attitude. Not so much in a careless way, but more of a helpless acceptance. Like Isaiah saying “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” As I’ve gotten older and experienced more of life, my perspective on the seemingly trite turn of phrase has changed. Context is everything, I suppose. Realizing life is like trying to grip egg whites changes a person.
Now, “Life Goes On” is less of a Gumpian way to stumble through life. At times, “Life Goes On” can be a very difficult reality and feel more like a curse. Part of the curse is in the unspoken question which comes with it.
“So, what are you going to do with yourself?”
If I am honest, most of the time I am not proud of my answer. There is lethargy and laziness and cynicism and selfishness and all manners of waste. And I hate that. I do not honor Emily in those times, and I feel a real, bone-deep shame when I’m in that place.
There are other times, though, when I remember to forget myself. And not in a “We are the World” service project kind of way, though that can be a part of it. It’s more about experiencing life and taking advantage of the moment. It is when I get off the couch. When I go run at the park, not for the sake of exercise but just to be outside. It is when I go to the beach for the weekend. When I reach out to people and show an active interest in their life—I say “active” because “genuine” just wouldn’t be … genuine. Not at first, anyway, but I’m getting there.
Actually, all of this boils down to being active, not genuine. If I was genuine, I would hardly be active. But activity leads to things becoming genuine. Sometimes you just have to move. And it is in that movement the curse is lifted. That’s when “Life Goes On.” That’s when I feel like life is honored. Both Emily’s and my own.
Six years ago today, Emily and I went to a Nikka Costa concert at Fitzgerald’s. It was a Monday night and the easy thing would have been to stay home, watch some TV and go to bed to get a full night’s rest before work. We took the other route, went to the concert and, for us, it made all the difference.
Tonight, I’m going to see Sylvan Esso. I’m going to dance poorly and not care. I’m going to sing out loud and jump, and sweat, and stomp the floors and forget myself.
Life Goes On.
emily and bret 