Finding is losing something else.
I think about, perhaps even mourn,what I lost to find this.
~ Richard Brautigan
We were sitting on the bank at lunch during a day on the Stillwater River. We were a three day hike into the backcountry. We had drunk a lot of whisky around the fire the night before and I think my dad was hung-over.
I was tired. The fishing had been good for a couple hours in the morning and neither of us were doing a lot of talking now. The water rushing by over the rocks and the wind blowing through the brush was all the sound there was.
My dad was looking out across the river and the plain to the range of mountains beyond. His eyes searched the distance but he didn’t seem to see anything.
Could I get that water, he asked.
I gave him the water and he drank.
Paul, he said. Someday you’ll find yourself searching through your memories for some unarticulated loss. You’ll eventually find that long ago you lost something you didn’t know you had, and you’re going to deeply mourn that you don’t have it anymore.
Shit, Dad. That’s depressing.
What you have to do is make your decisions, he continued. Pay attention so you know when you are making a turn. It won’t always be noticeable. But don’t just let the world set your course for you.
He drank some water and said nothing more.
I’ve now come to realize that my dad regretted some of the things he had done in life. He longed for some of the things he lost, but he never regretted life itself. It was a difficult balance for him to find because he didn’t believe in any afterlife. He felt he had been blessed with one trip through and one trip only.
And I don’t believe there is anything sharper to the heart than wasted opportunity.
That day on the Madison, my dad and I sat a while longer in quiet, then I went back to fishing. He stayed there for a long time, still staring at the mountains, searching for some memory.
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3 Comments
because i’ve had some readers who have implied that they thought this was my father and his words in these stories, i’d just like to emphasize that this is all part of my fiction friday campaign. this is the product of my imagination. any similarities to real people are coincidental.
enjoy.
You cought me the first time. Thinking it was real. But you warned me and so you did not catch me this time.
However, I thought all of this (except one line perhaps) was damn good fiction.
I found “Shit Dad thats depressing” to be tossed in. Does not seem to fit for me.
The rest is really good.
Dave
I really liked the poem by Richard Brautigan. We pay dearly with the currency of our life’s mistakes and triumph’s to get where we are now. Am I enjoying myself enough NOW to justify such an expense?
Like your Dad says, watch for those forks in the road. Our choices make all the difference. Our choices ARE the difference.
Thanks,
Henri