Sins of the Past

Time is a funny thing. So real to us that it dictates the tempo of our lives, yet so ethereal that it can slip away between your fingers like grains of sand at the beach. Both it and we have no meaning, no context for us before we are born, it has none after we are gone, and we can never get enough of it while we are.

I found out today that someone from my past, someone that, at the time and in my own, poor way I cared about, died. I don't know what killed her, or anything else except that at the time it happened I was so wrapped up in myself that I didn't even notice her passing.

I don't know, maybe that's a good thing given my track record, maybe it's not. I've had friend die in the cold, bitter mountains and arid deserts of far-off lands, but there's a distance to that, both physical and emotional, that buffers the blow. But this one . . . this one strikes somewhat closer to home, literally and figuratively. There's that one small part of my soul that examines what I am, and doesn't like what it finds.

The sins of our past, our sins of commission and omission, always come back to haunt us, ghosts as ethereal and as real as the time we grapple with. We can seek refuge from them in our friends, in the arms of our lovers, in whomever we please, but that is only an illusion. We can't redeem ourselves from ourselves.

She died, and I had no idea she died. Just another ghost to stand in silent accusation, to show no mercy in my fevered dreams. The man who said that it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all was a dreamer, and a fool. Is it really? For if one never loves, than one never has to feel the exquisite pain of loss, that sharp knife that cuts so cruelly. Yet if one never loves, then one can never really call themselves human, and loss is a part of the bargain. You pays your money, and you takes your chances.

Would it have been better to have never known, to have gone on deluding myself that she was living a happy life somewhere? I truly can't answer that. All I know is that it feels like another part of my life has been chipped away, that I should have paid more attention before it was lost beyond recall.

Ultimately, we can't hide from the sins of our past. No matter how many times we stand before those ghosts and plea mea culpa, there is no judgment that will satisfy them and wash away the guilt. The evil we do under the Sun comes back to inhabit our nights, and all that we do is all that we will ever do.