Seasonal Connections

'There will come a day when you pass by someone you once loved with all your heart as if they were a stranger. A day when a close friend, with whom you once shared secrets, drifts so far apart that they don’t even make a single phone call. And a day when someone you once hated so much you wanted to destroy them becomes someone you can smile at when you meet. Over time, even this will mean nothing.’

– A passage from On Grief and Grieving by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross.

A few days ago, a friend I hadn’t seen in almost two years called to invite me for a walk in Riverside Park. We used to meet often and walk together when she lived nearby. But after she moved downtown, our meetings became infrequent. Then, after her grandchild was born, our phone calls gradually dwindled. I tried reaching out, but her voicemail was always full, so I couldn’t even leave a message. Eventually, our connection faded.

As we walked through Riverside Park, we felt the weight of an uncertain farewell, not knowing when we might meet again. So, we stopped at a café.

“My mother-in-law, who’s in a nursing home, calls constantly, so my voicemail is always full. I’ve been so busy taking care of her and looking after my grandchild,” she explained.

As for me, my parents and parents-in-law have both passed away, I have no grandchildren, and my husband spends all his time in the studio, even on weekends. I only focus on taking care of myself and avoid burdensome meetups.

When we’re young, we’re busy socializing with friends. When we’re married, we’re busy raising kids and supporting our spouse. As we age, we care for grandchildren and aging parents. Relationships grow distant and fade away. I’ve been practicing the saying,

"Let go of those who leave, welcome those who enter my life."

I no longer strive to maintain long-term connections. I live content with the relationships of each season.

Along the riverside, there are two rocks perfect for sitting. Nearby, two trees cast shade over them. The bark of the trees, peeling and rough, resembles the wrinkles and roughness of my own face. Sitting on the rock, I looked into the flowing river. For years, these rocks have been a resting place for many and cradle me gently as if to embrace me. The unchanging nature that welcomes me through its seasonal transformations is my first love and my last love.