The Person You Knew is Gone

The greatest distance between two people is always time.

This works is both an objective sense, and a subjective sense. Certainly, when a friend is a five minute drive away, you'll see him more than when he's a half hour drive away. And if you have a relationship, even a long distance one, there's a difference between even a four-hour car ride and a four-hour plane ride. And similarly, two people can be busy and not be able to see each other for a while. But what I really mean is time itself. You know, the time that keeps marching on. Over time, you lose the people who are closest to you. People go off to college, get jobs, get married, have kids, move away, or even die. People change over time, priorities change, personalities change. It's a very difficult thing to hang on to a friendship for a long time, to have two people change enough in the same direction.

The past is like a walled garden: It looks inviting, but you can't go there. I look at pictures of my ex-girlfriend sometimes. I have to remind myself that the person in those photos is gone. She's changed. I even heard she's better and happier than she's been in a decade. I don't know whether to take credit for helping her, or blame myself for hurting her. She had to leave me to change. So, the person I loved more than anyone in my entire life is gone. She's someone else now. A better person. But still gone. So I end up missing someone that lives more in my memory. Maybe part of her always did.

My father changed over time. Over time, he became unhappy with his marriage, and snuck around with other women. He deliberately hid his changes from his family, and even when we saw the evidence that foreshadowed his abrupt departure, we ignored it, because we didn't see him as that kind of person. Then, all at once, he revealed himself, and bolted for the door. On the rare occasions that I talk to him, what strikes me the most isn't how he changed, but how much he hasn't changed. With his marriage an abysmal failure, you'd expect some humility, some other changes, some regret over what he's done. But instead, he's the same old Dad. Ask him about any topic, from cars, the Middle East, tax rates, he'll spout out the same factoids and know-it-all attitude that I've heard for three decades. But ask about his marriage? He'll just change the subject.

My mother, on the other hand, has changed a lot since Dad left. It hurt, and she had to look at all the things she had spent years not paying attention to. She had to relearn everything from paying bills to dating. But, she did it. It wasn't easy, but I think, at least with the dating, and with the overall emotional support, I helped. Now, she's stronger, more independent, happier, and seeing someone that really makes an effort to appreciate her, and have a good time with her. Thanks for all you've done, Dad.

You can even make a similar observation about online dating. If you talk to someone online for too long and don't meet, your imagination fills in the gaps. If it turns out that the person you eventually meet doesn't match up to your expectations, you essentially have to let go of the person you thought you really liked. The person you thought you'd be with and the person you actually meet aren't quite the same person. So, that illusion is shattered and the person you “knew” is gone.

And yes, you can say the same thing about yourself. I wouldn't recognize myself at half my age. I was full of rage, full of potential, convinced myself I knew better than everyone around me, but didn't have a clue as to how people interacted. High school is this strange world where you get rewarded academically for spending your time studying and knowing all the answers, or you get rewarded socially by ignoring your studies and hanging out with friends and girlfriends/boyfriends. At fifteen, I had all of one, and none of the other. By twenty five, I had worked so hard to fill in the gaps that fifteen-year old me had, that I had gone the other way. Now I'm thirty. After all I've been through, I don't know if my past self would even know what to make of me. The person I was is gone. Sometimes I like what I've become...sometimes not.

But in one year...five years...ten years... maybe that will all change. The person I am will be gone, replaced by a smarter, happier, more satisfied, richer (in both life and money) me. And I'll be the person I want to be. Or...maybe I won't. But I hope you'll be who you always wanted to be. And maybe reading this will help you get there faster. Your past and future self will thank you.