Who's Thinking About You?

"Every time I hear 'One Toke Over the Line' by Brewer and Shipley.  When I sleep on the couch with my knees bent and the TV on.  If I see a VHS tape with handwritten-on masking tape along the spine.  When I glance down and see ridges on my unpolished nails.  If I come across a quilt hung on the wall. These few happenings, along with thousands of others, make me think of you." If she were still alive, I would tell my aunt Crunch about all the times I think about her.

But I can't. She has been gone now for nearly four years, but in my mind, I still see her handwriting, hear her comforting voice, and feel the warmth of her slight hands gripping my shoulders.  Sometimes, it's hard to believe that she ever left because I can still feel her presence so intensely.

That's the thing about people. Even when they're gone, they're not really gone. But while they're here, why aren't we telling them what they mean to us?

Last week, I traveled to Minneapolis with a few coworkers.  In my opinion, road trips are  classically the best opportunities for me to get to know people. After all, a moving vehicle is the perfect captivity for those who may otherwise want to escape a thoughtful conversation.  My coworker, a sixty-something man who has, by his own admission, experienced a rich life, but also dealt with his share of hardships, shared many anecdotes of his personal experiences.  Over our three-hour commute in bleak, gray conditions, I learned that he lost both of his parents.  He spoke of them fondly, and then opened up about his beliefs regarding death. "I think death is honorable," he said.  "If someone can live a whole life and then pass away, I think, 'good for him'".  We continued talking, and then he said something I think will stick with me forever: "I don't think people really ever die.  I think they are always around us.  Their souls diffuse, and then we experience them in our atmosphere all the time." He nailed it.  I've always had difficulty processing death because of my skepticism of religion. With an inability to believe in the afterlife, I struggled to wrap my head around what it means to die. This, however, is something I could understand.

My sensory history of Crunch and her spirit is still so influential in my life, it's as if she never really left.  The thing is, though, that she never knew how much I thought about her, and I can't share it with her now. This thought-- that humans are endlessly affecting one another, but we aren't conscious of it-- has been on the back burner of my brain for the past week or so, and I have been exploring it in a few different ways. Many of us live in a world of constant communication via social media, which means that we are hyper-aware of others' attention paid to our lives.  We know how many "likes" we get for Facebook posts.  We see who views our Snapchat stories.  We see if others like our ideas enough to retweet them.  This apparent attention isn't everything, though.  Before social media existed, we still thought about one another.

How different would life be if you received a notification every time someone thinks about you? 

What if you knew that the smell of strawberry Chap Stick makes your best friend from third grade reminisce about you?  What if your first grade teacher smiles and remembers your little face whenever someone calls her "Grandma" accidentally?  What if you knew that every time "Jack and Diane" comes on the radio, twenty-five of your high school classmates remember you singing it at a party?

How differently would you live your life if you were conscious about the effect you have on people?

When my husband and I decided to move away from Springfield, we had an overwhelming number of people tell us how much we would be missed.  Multiple times, we conversed about how surprised we were that people said they would miss us. Why?  Because nobody told us.  Honestly, our perception during our time in Springfield was that we didn't fit in.  People thought we were too progressive, and it was somewhat difficult to make close friends.  We didn't know that people liked us, and by the time we learned the truth, it was too late-- we were already on our way out. So. Why don't we tell people how we feel about them until they leave us?  Or, worse yet, until after they leave us?  I wrote a beautiful eulogy for my aunt, but she never got to hear it.  I never shared with her the many times I thought about her, and that makes me sad. In our culture, we don't tell people how much we love them when we have the chance.  We don't say, "I think about you every time I do this yoga pose because of the time you tried to do it and we all laughed" or "Whenever Dumb and Dumber is referenced in any way, I think of the time we dressed up as Lloyd and Harry" or "I saw a super pink sunset last night, and it reminded me of a shirt you wore in middle school that I loved" because it would be "weird" to tell people these things. In my life, I experience this often-- the conflicting feelings. Would it be weird if I sent a message to her saying I miss her? Would he think I am a stalker out if I said I thought about him? 

I am someone who needs personal connections with others.  Other people give me energy and make me happy, and I like to make other people feel special.  BUT it's always a question of whether I am being too forward.  If I tell someone I think he is awesome, am I being strange?  If I find my coworker to be hilarious and I would love to go on a road trip with her to get to know her better, can I tell her that, or will she think I have a crush on her? The world in which we live has arbitrary boundaries.  You don't want to be too loving, too personal, or too friendly because people may think you are crossing the line or perceive your intentions incorrectly.  These arbitrary boundaries are making us cold, and they're making us wonder if we're having any sort of impact on people around us.  Depression and anxiety are at all-time highs because people are hyper-aware that others are thinking of them, but nobody knows WHAT they are thinking. So.  What's my point?  Well, I don't really have a point.  I am just an archaeologist digging through my thoughts and experiences one bone at a time, trying to uncover a deeper message and understanding of myself.  What would make me happier?  What would make the world a better place? I don't know what makes other people happy, but I'll tell you what makes me happy: when I get a handwritten card from an old friend wishing me luck at my new job.  When a former student texts me saying he is thankful that I taught him how to write an essay.  When I get a random message from a student saying she thought about me when he heard a Macklemore song.  When a high school classmate reaches out, saying he thought of me while making salsa because of a speech I performed in high school.  When someone I didn't know EVER thought of me lets me know he or she did. When I know that something I did for someone made a positive impact, whether intentional or unintentional.  When I come across a blue coffee mug in a store and I think about my aunt, Crunch, and I wish I could tell her about it.

Tell people you're thinking of them, and tell them often. <3