What makes us miss? and who? and why?

It's been said that of mammals, only humans have much sense of meta cognition, of actual memories, of reflection. Sometimes I wish I did not. There are days when I am so very reflective it's hard to find my way forward. For me, memories are brought to the foreground by many stimuli, but predominantly by music and images.

Today, it seems, I'm really suffering from missing folks.

I really miss my dad every November, for he died at Thanksgiving, 2003. I'd just seen him in October, for a funeral and then a good sit down (just the two of us) in his home office which he was so proud of. I miss him whenever I hear classic country music, like from Wichita's 92.3 (check the current playlist) and sometimes I just have to change stations, it's so overwhelming.

I miss my best buddy, Danny, all the time, but particularly whenever I smell beer or am reminded of Hays, Kansas; bowling, cantaloupes, or Steely Dan's song, FM.


(This song should be played while my blog is read.) My best buddy for life, since kindergarten (yes, they had that back when I was young). Danny's a busy guy these days, but I really should just saddle up and go visit him.

I miss my bestest littlest brother, Kyle, who is deployed to Afghanistan these days. I especially miss him whenever I see a squirt gun, for the memory that stands out is one in which he's having a big shoot out with my kids, and he's holding a squirt gun to a kitten's head, using that cat as leverage. (It's especially funny, for Kyle loves animals like no one else; the irony here--gets me every time. No kittens were harmed in the making of the water gun fight.)



Whenever I smell patchouli I miss my pal, Travis. He's a vagabond in the finest sense of the word, a world traveler who hitch-hikes just because he can. In that video, he dwells on the essence of hitch-hiking: "It pushes the edges of what I am as a human, and it strengthens my faith in god...Spirit seems to dwell heavily 3 feet away from a 70 mph-moving semi-truck." We were very fortunate to see him one afternoon this last summer. Such a rich life.

As a finite being, I often dwell on my own passing. It seems this semester I've really wrestled with my mortality, seeing the long view. I've had a rich life, a long life by some standards. Lately it seems, for no particular reason, like it's about over, and so I've been trying to get my life in order. I think it's a good way to live anyway, but it's really been a powerful preoccupation lately. I want to get things done, I want to tidy things up, and I want all my loose ends tied, right down to the paper work. One of my colleagues has her lesson plans ready and on her desk daily for the next day, just in case. I want to be that proactive. Another has his will, living will, funeral arrangements, etc. all in place for his survivors. That's how any thoughtful person should prepare, but I have none of that in place (at least my organ donation is in order, I guess).