Sometimes I Just Want to be There Again

“Sometimes I wish I was born in another time, long long time ago…”

In the course of a year, I have lost two lovely aunts and two dear uncles in death. In November, my brother-in-law died. He was only 49. My parents have been more burdened with bad health, but by God’s grace they keep going on.

In late December Aunt Josie died. Now, here in mid-January, Uncle Jiggs has passed on. Except for a brief meeting at Uncle Norris’ funeral 8.5 years ago, I had not seen him since the early 1980s, before he divorced aunt Della, dad’s sister. I remember being so broken up over that, but never ever ever having been able to tell anyone how I felt. I didn’t understand because everything seemed so right and good between them, and, well, Aunt Della was perhaps the aunt I’ve always felt closest to. Which is hard to say, since all my other aunts doted heavily on me. So I can’t explain that.

But when everything unfolded about the demise of their marriage, I felt the hurt of losing a part of my life. We often stayed with Uncle Jiggs and Aunt Della. I still remember the sunrise streaming through the kitchen and dining room windows, and the sounds and scents of their home, like the lingering ambience of a country ham breakfast served and savored an hour earlier. The CB radio and Jiggs’ command of the airwaves, his trucks, his horses, his earth moving equipment. We has a tall man. He just seemed powerful, cool, and handsome. He was good to us kids, sure, but never really close to us. But good to us. As an uncle ought to be.

Tonight, on Facebook I posted this brief tribute:

Good night, Uncle Jiggs.

Life took us along diverging paths, but I will fondly remember the better days of my youth when you were around, doing what good uncles do best: Making sure their nephews and nieces are safe, having a good time, and especially embarking upon an occasional adventure in and around the hills and ponds and lakes of northwest Tennessee and even Big Springs, MO.

Thank you for those memories. I dearly miss those times, and you will continue to be dearly missed by all us kids who always looked up high to see you standing tall, grinning, and ready for what’s next.

May you be at peace.

So in his passing, so much sweetness of better days is awakened, and so much sadness is stirred by the sheer pain of it all being gone. Why do I have these feelings? On the one hand, my life is overwhelmed with blessings. Especially the delight that comes through faith, the beauty of my wife, and the affection of my kids and the sweet moments we all share.

Yet I ache. I just really hurt tonight — not because of the news of his passing. I guess in one real sense I lost him over 25 years ago. But in another sense he represented a time in my life I cherished and painfully miss. A time that, when I was in the midst of it, I took for granted. My heart is really torn; while I love my life here, I often want to go back. Even to the smoke-filled restaurants and the long boring waits for mom and dad to finish visiting; the long trips to Tennessee and Alabama and back, and the interesting trips and visits during our stays.

And I don’t know why. But I do know it’s more than nostalgia. It’s not a desire to run away from anything here – there’s no such thing in my life I seek to escape. Except maybe one thing, and that is the specter of growing old. And honestly, I want to escape being alone, but I have more company here in my wife and toddling son and my teenage daughter than I did back then. And it’s not to escape worries or the cares and responsibilities of life. There were plenty of those back then too, in high school and college. It wasn’t completely a free ride.

Maybe it’s a sense of security: Looking back, you know the outcome. Looking back, you have a deeper appreciation for what you had – especially since it’s pretty much unattainable (until time travel is invented). A present-day trip to Obion County and Lake County, particularly each time we pass Uncle Jigg’s and Aunt Della’s old Lake House (and it was such a nice place) there on Reelfoot Lake is a trip back in time, for the most part. It’s often tinged with sadness that so much has gone away from those ‘better days.’ And that sadness erodes the security of today, simply because you see things fade, fall apart, and loved ones drift on to heaven. So maybe it’s that – being able to return to a place — a time — with a sense of security of what is and will be. To some extent, anyway.

But I won’t let ‘now’ be the enemy of ‘then’ – simply because it’s isn’t. My now stands on the shoulders of all these times, and my life remains fueled by all the energy poured into it by the wonderful souls God has placed in it. Even uncle Jiggs. And especially Aunt Josie, Aunt Kathryn, Uncle Ed, Uncle Mott, Grammy Winnie, Aunt Sammie, Uncle Norris, Uncle Bill, Grammy Mercier, my cousin Arnold, Uncle Slim, Aunt Nettie, Uncle Alan, Grandpa Baggett, Grandma Cranford, Gran-Gran, and Gramma Baggett.

And I still receive that kind of energy from my moms and dads and aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters and countless relatives. And old friends from better days, reconnected online, but still distanced by time and change. And “life.”

I guess it’s just hard sometimes. With a box in my throat and a stone on my heart I do from time to time sit and grieve a past that is gone. The other night I found a journal from fourteen years ago, recollecting the distant winter nights of our first home in Holden, Maine. I was immediately there — and wishing we were still there. Home. Whatever we have been seeking all these years, I don’t know if we’ve found it. But we find God everywhere we go. And I guess here is where we found Josiah (born to us in 2008). And if we pack up and leave this house of seven years, I will look back fondly someday with a heavy heart, weeping over these sweet and beautiful times on Ella St…

Lydia riding her bike without training wheels for the first time. All her birthday parties. Adventures in our woods. Josiah coming home to us, and this being the only home he’s known. Rocking him to sleep in the evening on the front porch. Occasional guests and gatherings, and quiet but sweet holiday meals. Cozy nights watching the lives of people who lived long long time ago on TV. And so much more, both happy and sad. So much has happened here.

Life is long, and time is short.

I don’t understand my feelings tonight, but these feelings are somewhat frequent guests in my heart. Despite the sadness, they bring a strange comfort, offering perspective and a bit of strength. And at times, like tonight, relieving me of the weight of many tears that just needed to be shed.

My life is good.
My memories keep telling me that. Perhaps a little too often.
And prodding me along with more hope, despite the inevitably of more pain and loss.
Because — even with the spiritual realities of eternity aside for just a moment — the burdens and scars of my life have long been outweighed by the joys and happiness that have accompanied me to this day.

And whatever these feelings are about, I know, by God’s grace, I’ll keep going on anyway… at least, I’ll do the best I can…

Sometimes I wish I was born in another time
Long long time ago
Things were much harder then
But I like the clothes they wore
And the way they did their hair
At least they showed some flair
And they all went off to war

You can never have it all
You can never have it all
You can have some things some of the time
You can have most things nearly all the time
But you can’t have it
All of the time.

— Colin Hay

(Actually, you can have it all of the time.
Because I’m your “It.”
And I’m glad you were born when you were, for such a time as this…)

— God