Running out of Gas
“I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I have just lived the length of it—I want to have lived the width of it as well” ( Author)
I just happened to glance at my gas tank. The arrow was on E. E means empty. Oh, great! I was on the Atlantic City Expressway on my way home from the beach. I felt a sense of panic. I felt a halt to the good time I had this weekend. It’s all going to end in disaster. It will be as if it never was. Then, a familiar sense of protectiveness, a learned sense brought upon by constant assistance and guidance from caretakers throughout my life. Even when I did not want it and ran away from it, it was there. Overprotectiveness, concern straight out of the hands of love. Now, finally, I am left to my own devices and I am running on empty. There are days I would rather not be a grown-up. I look for my father. I see his face. I hear his voice. I am suddenly glad he is not here. I am glad he is not worried about me now. This isn’t such a big deal. Tons of people, everyday, run out of gas. It could be a big deal. It could happen to even me! Me! I reach for my cell phone feeling an odd sense of safety. I look in the rearview mirror. I see three sleeping children. I suddenly feel inept, unfit and careless. I feel those prickly pinches up my arms and neck, around my ears and through my jaw. My heart beats harder. Impending doom. Fight or Flight. Instincts. My feelings had little to do with what would happen to me, to us. I shut off the radio. I concentrated on the traffic. I ignored the big E glaring from the dash. I tried not to think about my stupidity. Waste in the midst of haste. This is a repeating theme in my life. Too much rushing, too much to do. When my son protested the silent radio as he played his video game, I became angry. Didn’t he know I was panicking right now? Didn’t he know everything else was insignificant? One of the very persons I was most concerned about was expressing his feelings. I didn’t care! Not one bit! “Be Quiet!”, was all I could say. “You know you’re on empty”, he said. “You better stop at the next gas station,” he added. Suggestions. I wanted to bop him. I wanted to scream. I tried my best not to cry. I bit my tongue. I did not want him to worry. I wanted him to learn from my mistakes without too much inconvenience (or worse). Every night I promise to protect these kids, to keep them safe, comfortable, to love them with all of my capacity. I know there is only so much I can do, only so much I can protect. I’m really not very strong, just older and wiser and bigger than them. Doesn’t that immune me from causing them trouble? I think of how I will try to be understanding when these situations are reversed..when he is causing me inevitable concern. I even welcome that thought.
Is the road being stretched like taffy? I never noticed so many details on this highway. So many of those broken white lines to pass. Fifteen minutes later I came upon the sign that read: “Rest Stop, Food, Gas, Restrooms”. Any little thing I needed was available. I tried to be relieved. Suddenly, I had a metaphoric thought.
I suddenly knew how he must feel. He was slowly loosing gas. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He must be panicking. He must be cursing all the things he ever done that were not exactly right, wrong even. He must be made crazy by all the things that were said to him to coax him into feeling hopeful. Nothing anyone could say seemed appropriate. It was all so inappropriate. It all sounded so pointless. He must be angry, sad and desperate all at once. He does not want anyone to worry any more. He does not want to lose control. He has no control. He is afraid to suffer, afraid to be stranded, afraid to collide with something worse, afraid to run out of gas. He must want to give up. He must want to never give up. He must want to not want any more. He must think about how they will do it without him….his wife, his kids, his business. He thinks of his grandkids. He remembers the people he has met, obscure moments of interactions. He remembers things that had meaning for him that were not intended. He remembers the ways, smiles, friendship and kindness of others. He remembers how good it felt to give, to be nice, to be appreciative. He hopes his kids reconcile and learn to accept their differences and make the best of the only family they have. Someday they will have less. You can change almost anything but you cannot change your family and you cannot control how long you will live or when & how you will die. It is so hard not knowing. It seems too soon. He seems too young. To those left after a loved one’s death it is always too soon, they are always too young. Someday there just will not be that gas station up ahead.
I don’t know this man very well. I know he is nice. I know he is kind. I know how he treated my kids. I know his family. I can empathisize.
I realize how important it is to be nice to not only your family and friends and neighbors but to everyone. You never know who you will impress or change with a kind word or smile. You never know who will remember you, who may say a prayer for you. When you are loosing your grip on life knowing that you have done your best, loved your most and showed kindness, it must help. It seems to be significantly more important than any mortal sense of accomplishment. Some people just think of others before themselves. Some people are just considerate. They deserve to be considered even though they will never care or expect it. We all know someone like this. More of us should be this way. You may bring reflection to those you may never realize. You may have made a remote difference to some people. In you own way, you’ve made your mark on this world.
I only needed gas. How insignificant! God bless my friend who needs so much more. I thank him for his subtle effect on my life. My prayers are with him.
Three weeks ago, my son woke up from his sleep with an asthma attack. Ironically, he told me HIS GAS WAS OUT. They were his words. He is just turning five years old. As my son’s breath was quickly given back to him by life sustaining medication, those seemingly same professional nurses and doctors caring for him are not always able to help some others. I was so grateful to be the one chosen to be saved…my son & I, my family. I will remain insanely grateful for our good fortune. I will not take it lightly. While being thoroughly frightened for my son’s life, seeing him unable to draw oxygen into his tiny lungs, I felt so utterly helpless. Life’s seconds were now so indispensable. I said so many prayers. I made so many promises. Life is constantly testing our appreciation of it.
All of us are intertwined at some level. Life is all relative. It’s all significant.