How Many Times Will I See You Again?
Today, we’re talking about time.
We’re talking about context. We’re talking about family, friends and loved ones. We’re talking about a question.
That question: How many times will I see you again?
Two months ago, on the weekend of St. Patrick’s day, during the first round of March Madness, I drove to Las Vegas in order to see three of my cousins.
I had worked a full day on Friday, got off, then hopped in my truck and drove 3-1/2 hours from Los Angeles to Death Valley where I spent the night in my homemade truck camper.
By 7am the next morning, I was on the road again, and in Vegas by 10am. I met my cousins at Bally’s. We spent the day bouncing around the strip. At 7pm I was back behind the wheel, home in Los Angeles just after 11pm. That’s nine hours spent visiting, almost eleven hours spent driving.
And I told you: Today, we’re talking about time.
It had been 3 years since I last saw these cousins of mine. Before that, another 3 years. As of writing, I’m 29 years old.
The average lifespan for the American male adult is approximately 76.61 years1 — but we’ll call it 77 for the sake of convenience.
77 (avg. life) - 29 (my age) = 48 years.
48 ÷ 3 years (current avg. time between visits) = 16.
16 visits. That’s what we call existential arithmetic. Meaning that to maintain the status quo, to change nothing, I can expect to see my cousins sixteen more times while I am still living — and even that’s some generous number crunching considering two of these cousins are 15 years older than me.
We’re talking about context.
And I’m 29.
When I told my parents what I planned to do, to see my cousins, they said it’d be a lot of driving for such a short visit. No drinking and driving, they reminded me. Vegas without Vegas.
The subtext: Was it even worth it?
I’d already asked myself the same question and arrived at an answer. And so I shared the existential arithmetic that got me there.
We’re talking about family, friends, and loved ones.
Two months later, which is today, my dad told me the math has not left him since. And he’s 60, with a brother who’s 18 years older than him, and a sister who’s 15 years older. In fact, it’s been the same three years since he’s seen these siblings — since I saw them, too; since all our family was together for Thanksgiving in 2019.
This is what we’re talking about.
To break time down into such a way, the existential weight becomes easier (and harder) to hold. You see on the one hand there’s not much time left; yet, really, time is still plenty. Hell, I have a whole life ahead of me and yet that 16 looms like a dark cloud. Yet there’s others I’ve seen less.
We’re talking today about a question that applies to everyone.
How many times will you see your grandparents again? Your parents, children, friends and loved ones?
Do the math.
What’s your answer?
These are your important relationships, are they not?
And what about your not-so important relationships? How many times will you see those people again?
Is it more?
And is that a way to live?
You can’t run from the math.
Pick up the phone. Get in the car.
We’ve been living all wrong.
But still there is time.
