Nothing Matters

by Anthony Rowe

Someone I loved died suddenly.

Her death has jarred me from the rituals of life. I blow off work, I scoff at my to-do lists, and I reject my daily routines. Nothing matters! Someone I love is dead and gone, and all of the aspects of my life that seemed so exceedingly important a few days ago have now been exposed as nothing more than a collection of minutiae. Each of us will die one day, and the world will carry on without us. So what does any of it matter? Why answer the phone? Why do the dishes? Why follow through? Why even get up?

Hours and days pass, and stories begin to accumulate. People write, call, or drop by, and they tell story after story about her. Some of the stories are big – important events and major accomplishments; but most are little stories, little moments where she shared an opinion, brought forth a burst of laughter, lent a helping hand, or offered words of encouragement. A vague comprehension begins to rise within me of how each of these small moments accumulated over time to create a life that is continuing to leave an impression in a world left behind.

During these same hours and days, people come forward from all directions with words and actions of support and kindness. They stand up time after time to help us get through the days. Small tasks come to mean a great deal -like giving a call, or watching the kids, or lending a car, or cleaning the house, or covering at work, or shoveling the driveway, or… These small, thoughtful moments gather and slowly come into focus, cutting through the cynical fog that has been surrounding me.

We make it through the visitation, propped up by relationships that have been built over lifetimes. We honor her life at the funeral, sharing honest words, songs, hugs, and tears with many of the people whose lives she had touched. Finally, we eat and talk quietly at the reception, where more stories are told, and she is again brought back to life at crowded tables interspersed throughout the restaurant.

Over the next two days, everyone returns to their lives. The world continues to spin while we, her family, are left to wonder if we can get back on and ride. I sit at the kitchen table and look across at my wife, who is drained and is staring blankly out the window, and I listen to my kids playing together in the living room. I reflect upon all that we’ve experienced over the past few days, and I begin to look ahead to the days, weeks, and months in front of us. As I sit there and ponder, a clear understanding of my misguided thinking emerges, and it heartens me.

Nothing matters?

Every. Single. Thing. Matters.