I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
‘Cause no one else cared
After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving
When I’m done here?
So if you’re asking me
I want you to know
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
From the moment I first heard it in the movie theater, this song, “Leave Out All The Rest” from “Twilight”, captured my soul. Haunting words and music that run through my mind as I rush through these golden years frantically trying to put my little world in order.
I don’t know if it’s just me, at this stage of my life, wondering about what I’ll leave behind. Not material things, mind you, but the quality of memories in the minds of those closest to me, the people I’ve loved in my lifetime.
So much of what we speak about, on an almost daily basis, involves time. It seems we never have enough of it and painfully watch as it speeds past us with each passing year.
I worry about the mistakes I’ve made which might overshadow any of the positive things I’ve accomplished. Let’s face it, when someone dies, everyone gathers to celebrate that departed life, in some fashion. And then, time passes, softening the sorrow and sentimental imagery. Painful thoughts, like sharp pricks of a pin, bring reminders of unhappy times, causing people to deliberately not think about that name engraved on a slab of marble. That name, which once represented a loving human being, all too often, ends up being forgotten in a crowded field of hallowed ground.
We clean out our closets and attics, ridding ourselves of needless accumulations. As our mortality stares back at us in some mirror, we rush to mend broken family fences or renew old friendships, keeping a wary eye on that mystical hourglass of time. Why don’t we have this fear when we’re young enough to change things and mold our lives in a more positive direction? This so-called wisdom we achieve in later life could be put to so much better use when there is an expanse of time still to be enjoyed…and fulfilled.
I want to be remembered, not with tears but with smiles. Spare me any resentment and not allow my memory to harbor thoughts of anger or emptiness. Any of this would mean that my time on earth was wasted.
For now, I’m working very hard on reasons to be missed.
From The Writer’s Workshop…
An anthem, typically, is a song of praise, or gladness but can also reflect a point-of-view. This song did just that when I first wrote this post a while back. Still does. A reflection of my life and feelings. Enough said.
