The Ties that Bind

 The Ties that Bind

By Bobby Neal Winters

That we continue to exist after we die--to me--is just a fact.  I’m not talking about ghosts--though I won’t rule those out at some suitable level of abstraction.  

Before I go on, let me warn the reader that this is going to be a mess because I am still working out my thoughts on this and I’m not nearly as smart as I think I am.  So be forewarned.

We like to think of ourselves as individuals.  Individuality is a problematic notion.  Human beings are born as naked, helpless creatures and remain that way for some time.  (For some, this is into their thirties.) We are born totally dependent and with the help of our parents, our teachers, and other people in our lives, we gradually reduce the bonds of dependency.

But it never quite disappears.

True, there are some people who give more help than they receive, but even they receive help.  And they receive the sort of help that can’t be repaid.  They can’t just cut themselves off from everyone else.  In the words of the song, “Everybody needs somebody sometime.”

By virtue of this, we have connection with others. (My grammar checker doesn’t like “connection” as a singular in the previous sentence, but the computers don’t rule us...yet.)  That connection is real.  They are in our heads even when they are not in our presence. 

We had our kitchen door replaced.  For years it squeaked, and we could live with that, but the cats had about ripped it to shreds so we had it replaced with a metal one and a storm door. (That will show the cats.) Now the squeak is gone.

For years, my wife’s dear mother would come in through that door, and the squeak would be a signal for us that she was coming into our home. Our minds would reorder themselves in anticipation of her visit.

Between the time she died and the time the door was replaced, the door would squeak, and I would think, “Janet is coming,” as an automatic reflex.  Then my conscious mind would kick in, and correct me, no that is not going to happen.

Yet, from time to time, something happens at that corner of the house that gives me the same reaction; this happens to my wife too.  Janet is still here, if only in our heads and hearts.

This is because we are not completely individuals.  Our existence is spread out through the herd, as it were.

It is as if we are tied to each other with rubber bands.  When we are in the process of dying, those rubber bands are stretched tighter and tighter.  When we die, the bands are cut at the point of connection.  They spring out and sting those to whom they are connected, but the connections are still there.  

They are still a part of us.

How we live our lives will determine what those who remain make of the connections when we die.

Whenever I have that fraction of a second when I feel that Janet is going to enter the room, it’s a happy moment.  The next moment is a realization of grief.  Perhaps, I simply need to learn to turn that grief into an appreciation for the continued relationship.

Like I said, I am still working it out.

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like'' the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube. )