Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.55

How many together with whom I came into the world are already gone out of it?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

When I was younger, I would often dismiss such concerns. Old people, after all, were the ones who had to worry about other old people around them dying. I was sure I still had some time left, before that reality hit me straight in the face.

I learned that I had been wrong for at least three perfectly good reasons. First, it assumed that what would come later was meaningless now. Second, it revealed a vanity in my own sense of security. Third, it all came to me quite a bit quicker than I expected.

I would often be told that youth was wasted on the young, and I resented such claims. People might not always be compassionate when they are saying it, but they do say it for a good reason. It wasn’t just that we were failing to plan for the future. In fact, I knew many young people who had their entire lives planned out. No, it was that we were planning for all of the wrong things. We wanted to be rich, gratified, and respected, and we wanted to keep that going for as long as we could. Our sense of morality, whether for now or for the future, was secondary to our sense of utility, whether for now or for the future.

At the same time, I saw loss in other people’s lives, but I took it for granted that none of that would happen to me. Youth made me invulnerable, I thought, even when I would dramatically claim that I had no intention of living past thirty. It all seemed more like a game than an actual reality. There would be much playing now, and no thought of any paying later. It should have come as no surprise that so many of the young and bright professionals I’d gone to school with went from strength to strength in their careers, while they were completely incapable of forming lasting and loving relationships with other human beings.

Then, far more suddenly than I could ever have expected, the changes set in. I had struggled with the passing of my elders before, but now I struggled with the passing of my peers. It seemed to pick up the pace before I could ever take proper notice. One died, completely unexpectedly, and then another. And then another. And I had failed most every time to make things right before they were gone. Others died in a different, more symbolic, way, because they moved away, lost interest, and because they no longer cared, and we no longer had anything in common.

I lost a fine friend from high school when I was in college. I lost a true buddy from college when I was in graduate school. I lost a fellow, who knew me better than I knew myself, just after I got married. Through all of that, people I loved and cared for slipped out of my life, having chosen different paths, never to be found again.

This will bring great sadness to anyone who still has a mind informed by a conscience, and a heart informed by love. It is also a perfectly good reminder for all of us that, whenever things come and go, we should be called to be the best of friends while we are all still here. It will all be gone before we know it.

Written in 7/2007