Nostalgic, much? Always.

On the tram this morning I overheard a conversation between two young women discussing their long weekend. One had gone snowshoeing in the glorious Oregon snow. The other had gone to her best friend’s funeral.

For whatever reason, my mind went to: what is good about this? and I remembered a passage from Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet:

“When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

My friend from Kenyon College, Keyser, was in town visiting me this past weekend. On the way to the airport to pick him up, I couldn’t help but think about the opening scene from “Love Actually.” The scene takes place at the arrivals gate of Heathrow Airport, where couples, old friends, all combinations of loved ones are meeting each other. A narrator ponders, “In an ugly world, this sort of scene reminds me that love actually is all around.”

Anyways, Keyser and I saw each other for the first time in forever, in the bathroom. I was peeing. This speaks volumes about our relationship. Anyways, we had a great visit hanging around my new home of Portland, Oregon.

My favorite part was that nothing had changed. We chatted and had a back and forth just like the old days: running through the rain, drunkenly singing stupid rap songs, discussing the challenges of upcoming med school steps, and complaining about girlfriends. Er, only speaking the highest praises of girlfriends. All in all, it was relieving to know, we would be friends forever.

For the final hours of the visit, I accompanied Keyser to the airport, and eventually we had to say goodbye. As I watched him walk away with the same old dark blue jacket, dark blue JanSport backpack, and purple Kenyon track bag, I realized, even his appearance hadn’t changed.

As if on cue, that realization rushed me with sentimental memories of the past. After that, I sat at the airport for a little bit.

I feel like I’ve been in a semi-daze the last month since my friend from home, Mooks, came to visit. Both Mooks and Keyser visiting were a blast, to live even briefly in that old give and take was something I cherished. But both times, it’s been hard to deal with the sorrow in accepting their departing flight. It’s been hard to leave the metaphorical waiting room at the Portland airport.

This brings me back to my original story. It must suck to go to your best friend’s funeral. I can’t even imagine. But if I had to, from my small-minded 22-year-old perspective, I’d probably imagine it like an airport goodbye:

It would be hard.

I would wish I had spent our time better and not gotten impatient about some stupid little thing.

I would pray for the clock to turn back, for another chance.

I would remember the first days of our friendship, the highlights, and the tough days.

It would feel near impossible to get up and engage back in life.

It would be hard.

But then, I might remember a passage from Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet.

“When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

And in that, I would breathe easier. Well, maybe just a little. And maybe one day I will finally gather the strength to leave the Portland Airport departure gate.

from ken

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