Last Questions
Discover more from The Art of Noticing
Last Questions
TAoN No. 140: And why it's okay if they're never answered. Plus a new Missing Word, and more.
Julia Filirovska via Pexels
My father died recently, and not surprisingly that’s put me in a reflective mood. His passing was not unexpected: He was almost 96 and had been in declining health for a while, especially so since my mother died a little over a year ago. As much as I miss him, I recognize that he was ready.
Still, his actual death was inevitably jarring, and left me thinking, among other things, about all the questions about his life that I wish I had answers to.
The obvious thing to say here is:
Think about the questions you have for loved ones in your life, that you might regret not having asked. Ask them now. And make time to listen to the answers.
And I endorse that!
But … often … it’s just not that easy. I asked my father loads of questions, particularly after my mother passed. Among other problems, his memory was failing, and I could tell that sometimes, even when he wanted to answer me, he couldn’t. He clearly found that frustrating. (Just as clearly, I didn’t want to be a source of frustration.)
Maybe that just underscores one elment of the directive above: Ask your questions now. Memory can be fragile.
I endorse that, too. But … again … it’s maybe too simple. The truth is there were questions I asked over the years that just resulted in rote or vague responses. Stuff he didn’t want to talk about? Stuff he figured could wait? I don’t know! Maybe the lesson there is to ask and ask again later and ask more after that.
Also, though, it makes me want to shift the focus to the other side of this conversation:
If you are on the receiving end of the kind of inquiry I’m describing, answer. Maybe you’re not getting quite the questions you want, but maybe you never will. This whole thing about fragile memory, time running out, the unpredictability of the future? It works both ways. Work with what questions you’re given, while you can.
This recognizes the complexity of what’s really going on here: It’s the opposite of simple and easy. Yes, it’s worth the effort. But I think it’s also inevitable that at least some of the time even the best efforts will fall short, for reasons beyond anyone’s control, or best intentions. We’re merely humans, after all.
There are questions that will never be answered. Ask anyway, and the sooner the better. But accept that you might not get what you (think you) want.
My parents gave me a great deal. I don’t need any more answers to know I love them both. That, really, is more than enough.
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THE NEXT FREE EDITION IN TWO WEEKS
Dictionary of Missing Words is an exercise in paying attention to phenomena you encounter — sensations, concepts, states between states, feelings, slippery things — that could be named, but don’t seem to be. More here and here.
This week’s missing word is from me.
It’s really hot outside — the heat index over 100 again. Sunlight is brutal. But inside, the AC plugs away and it’s quite cool. Suddenly it starts to rain. But the sun is still out. You open the front door, not all the way, just a foot or so. The outdoor heat, the indoor cool, the smell of rain hitting hot pavement, all commingle in this space you’ve just created. If you step forward or backward you’re in a clearly defined atmospheric state. But if you stand still in this unnamed in-between, you feel it all, at once … until you close the door.
What else should we add to The Dictionary of Missing Words? Leave your suggestion — or respond to this one — in the comments.
IN OTHER NEWS
“Tell me about one of your favorite places that you’ve visited, and list at least one piece information from each of the five senses that you can recall from being there.” The Walkist.
Jeweler/arist Margaux Lange’s Barbiecore collection. I wrote about her very cool work (and about Barbie in general) back in 2009.
I just randomly read Joy Williams’ book Ninety-Nine Stories of God from a few years ago, and I really dug it. I don’t really know Williams’ work but this collection of mini-stories (some just a few sentences) struck me as pleasingly Kafka-esque. I had forgotten how much I love the mini-story form. I particularly recommend No. 35 and No. 91.
41 Life Lessons. A TikTok video, of all things, but not bad! Via The Sounds In My Head.
Encounters with Columbia U’s homeless neighbor, by Camilo Vergara.
I really like David Shrigley’s work.
Alanis Morissette & Foo Fighters cover Sinéad O’Connor. (Also: That time O’Connor did Negativland a solid.) (Also also: Friend of TAoN Cynthia Joyce on Sinéad.)
Maybe you already know this, but:
Go to google
Search “dog”
Tap the paw icon
Tap it again
Tap it repeatedly
(Thx E.)
OKAY THAT’S IT!
As always, I value your feedback (suggestions, critiques, positive reinforcement, constructive insults directed at me, not at anyone else, etc.), as well as your tips or stories or personal noticing rituals, things we need a word for, and of course your icebreakers: consumed@robwalker.net. Or use the comments.
—> Or just click the heart symbol. That always makes my day.
And thanks for reading …
rw
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All this by Rob Walker PO Box 171, 748 Mehle St., Arabi LA 70032. Send me mail!
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Last Questions
You know, my dad passed away quite a while ago—7 years have gone by now—and I frequently find myself reflecting on the countless questions I wish I had asked him. I'm certain there were many opportunities back then, but there's one thought that consistently brings me joy: he was the type of person I could inquire about anything under the sun.
I really struggled with this newsletter. Your words hit hard this time. My parents rarely shared stories about their past. I have one childhood story about my dad that was shared at a family reunion, and snippets about my mother.
My father passed away when I was 27 and I have now been alive longer without him than the number of years I had with him. I recently came across a photo of him and realized I didn't really remember what he looked like. (I have aphantasia and my memories are very word based, photos often help trigger memories).
My mother's last three years of life were spent wishing she wasn't alive anymore. Pretty much every phone call or time spent together was punctuated with her saying she wasn't needed anymore and she just wanted to be with my father. She had all of her mental faculties and yet blocked her memories. I sat with her in the last weeks of her life and tried to ask some questions, but the memories were gone. It was like she had taken them and stored them in a box tied and locked and tossed into an ocean of sadness. The bits she shared came out of a raspy voice, rough from an unwillingness to drink water and fading away with her wish to die.
As you said, we may not ever get the answers or stories that we hope for. Even when we ask at a younger age, if our family has guilt or shame about their lives, we may not ever get the stories.
Your missing word makes me think of Petrichor. It's not the same, but it seems there could be a whole series of words in this vane. Yesterday, I was weeding in my front gardens so I opened the front door and the back door to let the ait flow through and allow the doggs to keep an eye on me. When I came in, the smell in the house was the comingling of a humid day with the smells of the house, grass, scents off the breeze, etc. I was transported to childhood summers without air conditioning. It was so calming and peaceful.