Let the Past Die

The Past is…

The Past is a child, wrapped in ego and self-assurance mingled with fear and wonder and trust, a quick thinking and quicker talking prodigy trying to harness abilities he doesn’t understand.

The Past is a youth, enchanted by hopes and dreams and a pretty face, absolutely sure of the absolute rightness of everything he thinks and does.

The Past is a cynic, eager for justice or, in its absence, control, ready to go to any length to find order and peace.

The Past is a farm boy, idealistic, bold, impatient, and brave.

The Past is a warrior, powerful and fierce, headstrong and reckless, eager to meet battles he isn’t ready to face.

The Past is a scoundrel, greedy and swindling, good at heart, noble and smug, a bit of a scammer, and just a little bit lecherous and caring.

The Past is a leader, passionate and demanding, steel wrapped in warmth and nobility, impulsive and thoughtful.

The Past is a teacher, wizened and wise, cautious and mysterious, forcing you to see the world from a different point of view.

The Past is a friend, faithful and stalwart, trustworthy and ready for whatever comes your way.

The Past is a mystery, pieces of puzzles scattered to the stars, slippery threads weaving into an unseen tapestry.

The Past is a ghost, a soul held over from a previous time, a blurry image of what once was and can never be again.

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The Past is a story, showing us who we are, where we’ve been, the things that have shaped us and made us who we are. The Past is a memory of joy and sorrow, a tale of folly and failure and heartache and victory and bravery and joy. The Past is a lament for those who have been lost, for dreams never realized and hopes shattered to pieces. The Past is a melody of bittersweet remembrances caught in hands that float alone in the night sky.

“Let the Past die.”

How can we? The Past is a part of us. Yes, there is shame there. Memories we cannot scrub clean, no matter how raw we make the skin. Yes, there is grief there. Heartbreak we cannot heal with any balm. Yes, there is defeat there. A morass of willful sin whose odor permeates every sojourn through it.

“Let the Past die.”

But there is wisdom there. Coffers of old wood coated in dust, but filled with treasures that pay their debts. There is intimacy there. Warm rooms filled with sofas and fleece and fire and fragrance and peace. There is home there. The smell of grandma and coffee and bed.

“Let the Past die.”

But there is hope there. A tale of human woe met with joyful promise. There is forgiveness there. A hill with a cross and an empty tomb. There is purpose there. A mission handed down by our forefathers, a legacy to be preserved and a message of reality beyond the now that people need to hear. A story that means something. A story that means something.

“Let the Past die.”

No. The Past must live. But so must we.