It's a general human condition that to feel useful, to feel like our lives are worthwhile, we need a purpose in life. I don't know why. I'm sure we can trace it to some Puritan ethnic if we really wanted to. But regardless where it comes from, the question we're always expected to be able to answer is "What's your purpose in life?"
He was my purpose. Supporting him, loving him, helping him find life again. I may have not seen it 100% at the time, but I definitely see it in retrospect. Before I met him, I honestly think my purpose was my job (danger! danger!). It was all about getting to the next level. Everyone I worked with knew I could do it and saw things in me that I haven't recognized until lately. But, as it's wont to do when your purpose is an external thing, it all became barren and dull. It was when I recognized that I needed spice back in my life that I started hanging out with my regulars – because my happiest times in life, up until then, had been on the fraternity's front porch in college, chilling, drinking and smoking – that I met him and all that followed.
Then he died, and I had no purpose. And so, my purpose became living for him, keeping
his memory alive, trying to do him proud and do the right thing. Because, really, what else are you going to do?
Now time’s passed, his family and most of his friends are no
longer around, I honor him in the best ways I know how, but it no longer
consumes my life. What do I do now?
You know what? I
always hated goals. I was the kid who
said, “let me be flexible so I can go wherever God needs me, whenever He needs
me there, and to do whatever He needs me to do.” And so my grand record of job employment is 2
years. Less, actually, if I remember
correctly. And isn’t a purpose just a
goal with a different word?
So screw having a purpose.
Screw trying to focus my life around a meaning. Life is only understood in reverse anyways,
so ask me when I’m 100 what my purpose in life was. Right now, I can tell you the most meaningful
thing in my life is love – of him, of friends, of family, of strangers I’ve
never met by whom I try to do the right thing.
Is that the meaning of life? Who
knows, could be. I can claim it is. But we’ll never really know until we're old and
looking back.
Screw having a purpose.
Live each day, appreciate the blessings therein, and have FAITH that
God’s going to put me in the right place at the right time.
Living means enjoying what we have and where we are. My plan? I'm going to enjoy today.
