Sitting on an airplane. Me and my Sammy. There’s an old man sitting next to us. He looks down at Sammy without much of an expression then rests his head back again and closes his eyes. Then tears seep down his face and drop down his chin. He’s crying. And I don’t know why.
I ask if he’s ok and he says he’s just tired. But I can’t help but wonder where those tears are coming from. What’s his story? Did he just lose the love of his life? Or perhaps he’s returning from a funeral of a grandchild? Maybe he’s crying because he always wanted children but never could or maybe those tears represent the years with his children that he missed because he spent the best of his years behind a cold desk. Maybe those tears weren’t triggered by Sammy. Perhaps he’s simply contemplating the end of his life and what he’ll be leaving behind. Maybe he’s questioning his existence in a world full of unanswered questions and inner conflicts. Or maybe it’s not something as profound. Maybe he is tired and he just cries when he’s tired or he’s scared of plane rides or he has heartburn.
Whatever those tears mean, I can’t help but wonder about all the possibilities and all the reasons that those tears exist. Such a simple thing. A tear. Yet so many different levels of meaning, so many stories, so many emotions. A world of possibilities that will never be known to me. And yet, his tears have now ignited a flurry of thoughts in my mind.
The meaning of life, why certain things happen, why some people come into our lives and why others leave. Why a certain sequence of events happen in the order that they happen and if everything in life happens for a reason or if some things happen purely as a tangible consequence of our human decisions.
If the tears that we cry can be simplified to a simple biological response that can be controlled with enough self-will or if God intended for our emotions to be so overwhelming that tears are the only way those emotions can escape. If God is not the creator of sadness then were tears initially created to only exist in moments of uncontrollable happiness?
If this life is only a blink of an eye then do we put too many tears into things that won’t matter or should we be pouring more tears into the things that should matter more because of the limited time we have to exist on this earth? Are our priorities straight or are we spending too much time on a quintessential existence that will most likely be entirely forgotten after two generations of subsequent life?
So many questions, most of which will never be answered. All this wondering and I still don’t know why the old man sitting next to us cries his tears. Perhaps I simply think too much.
