It happens once in a while. I get melancholy.
I miss people and home sometimes it almost breaks my heart. I know I have built myself a good life here, but with dad’s birthday just passed, I am thinking of past times. God… We had good times. But then I remember those last three years, and how empty the old home felt before I moved here. I told my brother, “If he was smart, then he would get out.” He eventually did, but that is his tale to tell.
So I miss the home that was every once in a while, there is no going back. I have to remind myself that everything has changed. My parents are gone and the others have moved on with their lives.
I remember once I mentioned to my sister during a rough patch, after my BBF had passed away, that I missed Toronto and my family and the friends I had. My sister told me that I thought they all got together regularly to socialize. I built an idea that things were still the similar to what occurred in the past. She told me, “Sadly, they rarely get together. Life happens that way, life changes.” (I cannot remember her exact wording, so I am doing a bit of paraphrasing here, but the sentiment is there).
I have always found change to be the cornerstone of my life.
I have made so many changes in my life: I have moved more than a dozen times (in total) with the biggest move being to Vancouver, I have changed jobs/careers (some on purpose/some not), and when I retire we’ll be leaving BC (or as I to call it “the bring cash or bring credit province” ha, ha); we just cannot afford to retire here. It will be different, but that’s not a bad change. I do what is necessary for my ultimate good. Will I miss the people I have met here? Sure I will, but they can visit. It is not so bad.
I guess I am too much of a pragmatist.
—Robert Confiant 20 June 2018