Fear of Losing - Ideas Have Consequences

    I think that when a person becomes 54 and half years-old, as I have now come close to being, perhaps that age begets some ideas and thoughts that have not occurred to him himself before, or maybe a culmination of feelings and ideas have swept over him to the point that things in life cause him some serious, profound, or at least novel understanding about life in general or other things specifically that should matter. (Not the easiest first sentence.)

    Our ideas matter a lot of the time, but we admit that many thoughts and feelings can be fleeting, transitory, ephemeral, neither here nor there. Other ideas take root, germinate, grow and spread, and create other outcomes. Eventually, or sooner than we know, these ideas can produce results.

    Some of these ideas of fearing loss may resonate. Fine, hear me now and possibly like or accept or reject what I am saying later. Comments and feedback welcome.

    I am almost 54 and half years-old, which means if I double my life span, I would be 109 years-old! It is not likely that I actually will live that long. Okay, so if this life is a golf course, I am safely heading down the back nine. Or in football or basketball, I am now probably past halftime, and I am in the second half. What is the score? The points right now are not that quantifiable; therefore the final score is to be determined later.

    In hockey and baseball, I may not be in the last (of three) periods, or in the last three innings. But we never know which particular inning that we are in, because things can change on a dime; we can be lost at any time. We are all very mortal- some of us more mortal than others. Some of us take weirder or dumber risks than others, thus exposing us to more dangers and possible premature death. Yeah, some of you have driven with me in a vehicle. Some calculated risks can seem foolhardier than others. But we keep on mounting into those large, mobile, autos, that could be our demise at any random time. Enough of that talk. Accidents do happen; some are much more severe than others. Drive with caution, all.

    What do we fear the most in life? Losing is a true answer to one of our most primordial and common worries and concerns. Most of us fear the loss of something or someone. Losing what? Not just losing our own or others' lives, but losing money, losing security, losing our trust or virtue, losing a race, a game, a bet, or perhaps worst: losing our good name, reputation, respect and honor. Can we bear to lose those things?

    We can chip away at these things like respect or self-concept in momentary lapses of judgment, through embarrassing decisions and mistakes, or in bigger events like losing a competitive bid on a contract or a deal, which has big import to us and others, or losing a job or a key partner or mentor. Or we lose a key leader, friend. We can lose our identity in some pursuits, or lose our credibility or trustability because of dumb errors or mistaken judgment. We can lose so many people and things. Sometimes life may amount to how much we can preserve and safekeep versus losing all the most valuable things and people.

    Most of us strive and struggle mightily to establish our personal identities and names in order to maintain and preserve our good standing among ourselves and others. Do not sell yourself short and lose the respect that you have won for yourself and with others.

    For those that believe in a higher morality or God or faith, we choose to save our souls. Do not lose your soul! What could be worse? A fate worse than losing your life would be to lose your soul to some enemy, an opponent or adversary that pulls us from the divine and morally superior, whatever or whomever that might be for us.

    What do we stand to lose? Is possibly losing all or many things worth the risks of venturing into the unknowns of life? Most of us have to try, win or lose. We have to attempt success versus failure. Every day, we build our risk portfolio, most of us being cautious enough to not lose too much. Wars, business enterprises, dating and marrying, teaching and being educated, paying money for services rendered. Investments. We risk and take chances at all of the above.

    Then there is health and permanent family and friendships. Losing these statuses and people can be tragic, catastrophic, devastating. Hard to swallow, hard to bear.

    Death is a marker for us all. Have you lost a significant loved one? Did it happen lately? I know I have lost a few folks in my 54 plus years. Some of those lost were closer than others. All of them affected me in certain ways, both in fear of how they died-- could I be susceptible to that?-- and the pain and grief and loss of their absence and perhaps the way that they perished. Sadness and loneliness, even awful hopelessness can accompany such events.

    Death is quite final, and sometimes a relief to the survivors, but often a pill and a treatment that can leave us altogether changed, altered, and even missing our complete selves. Holes are left by some who die. Those holes may be filled in by others. Or other things can replace lost people, many of which can be distractions over the long and short term.

    Also, it is worth noting how the sickness and death of shared family and friends can affect others. I leaned of the death of one of my former foster sisters a few years ago, but I was surprised by how hard one of my sister's took her passing. We all grieve and react differently.

    Me, I am happily married. Going on past half my life, this marriage and resulting family has filled my life with great meaning, purpose, and joy. Perhaps I am at the seventh hole at the nearest golf course, in the span of where I am in this round of family life with my spouse and children. I consider my matrimonial partner my best friend. However, after my mother's passing, which was for me not being quite as old as I would have liked her to have gone, I know that a strong bulwark of my emotional and mental and social network was loosened, damaged, or even lost. As an example, my brother-in-law has a huge wall in his back yard that has gone through stresses and may come crashing down. Part of it was lost, setting all the other parts at risk of collapse. For me, my mother was a foundation of my garrison of strength, love, compassion, interest and motivation, and just plain friendship.

    If she is gone, who else could go? My children, my wife, my siblings, my other parents? I could go, too. All of us are subject to being among the lost ones. The fundaments have been moved, somewhat irreparably.

    My family when I was a child had a baby that we cherished, really loved, for most of her sweet young life, and we lost her after battling to adopt her legally. It was palpable the pain of losing her, with the consolation that she would be living with her real mom. But she had become ours. She was lost to us, but the baby was found again by her natural family. Not a death, but I think of it as close enough me, my parents, and sisters.

    Like divorce, or the bitter severing of a close friendship, these cleavages are heartbreaking. Romantic relationships gone askew, jettisoned to the dung heap of failed hopes and dreams. Not all that extreme, but our feelings do get wrenched in such cases.

    We must move on. Or be lost ourselves. Scars can remain, memories can be hard to escape, feelings and emotions may or may not be muted or suppressed. We learn and grow from such losses. At times we recover from the losses better than others.

    Death is usually the hardest one to deal with.

    When my mom died, did I at the age of 43 position my mind and heart differently, preparing for the next one to move on? Coping with that loss, was I internally steeling myself for the next to go? My dad? My siblings? My wife? My children? Sadly put, who will be next? Where did my heart and mind go in way of substituting or replacing her, my mother? Did I find an elderly woman at church, or did I soak in the story of a coworker on the job, recounting his or her visit with their mom that weekend, or did I find some other nugget of mothers in a movie or book, or even some side commentary of sportscasters during one of my many games on TV? 

    Did the games that my mom watch become a palliative and a soothing reminder and replacement for me? Was I lost myself in some kind of nostalgic reverie with those televised spectacles, when they mentioned Victor Oladipo, her last favorite IU player from my hometown making his way in the professional ranks?

    If I could lose my close friend in my mother, could I lose all the others? Sure. Maybe part of me wanted more backups, not relying purely on my own claimed family. Were there other just-in-case people or scenarios floating about in my head, ersatz insurance plans if by chance the worst were to happen to my dearest loved ones, closest to me then?

    I will let you arrive at some conclusions as to how my brain and soul may have dealt with such contingencies, now or over eleven years ago. When we lost my baby foster sister when I was a second grader, where did I go with my thoughts and feelings of loss? Did I compensate for the pain by trying to be tougher, meaner, more steeled against such tender ties of attachment and meaning? Did I become more calloused or cynical, as some deal with such hard passages in their life? Did I internally prepare for future losses of separation and heartbreak, always ready to lose those that counted the most? Did I find others in whom I could posit my love and affection?

    Did I grow closer to God, or become more enmeshed in faith, or did I gravitate towards religious folks who proclaim solace and reconciliation through higher powers? What did a young me do with that sadness or anger? Did the older people in my family take it harder, dealt with the loss more personally?

    Loss is hard to understand sometimes. A lot of the times, loss and losing cannot be dealt with right, as we properly should deal with it. Perhaps there is no great, standard, healthy way to deal with loss. Each one is different. Case by case dependent.

    Right. The ideas and consequences of losing things and people, and the fear and likely pain of it occurring, make us, form us, damage us, reform us into an evolving creature, a person with flaws and weaknesses who wants to be whole and true, but perhaps cannot quite attain such a lofty hope. The coping mechanisms of sorrow and grief due to losses can make us a wounded animal, a tortured soul, a forlorn passenger taking a long train ride where we do not know exactly where it goes, when it will stop, and how many of our most beloved co-passengers will arrive at the most likely far off destination, the final stop. Some tragically leave the railways far too soon.

    How do we ride on upon this big, stretching beast roving along the steel and timbers into the distant horizons? Always moving, rarely stopping for too long? With prayers, hopes, and every kind fellow passenger that we can find. Some may be false. We must find the true ones who travel with us for the security and safe passage of our souls.