I age quickly: hair thinning until bald, waist expanding until thick. A low angle of a fretboard in my bare hand, a straight shot pose in cap and gown, a dozen candids of Amy and I until we’re in tux and dress, and then come the baby pictures—us and our two boys. I feel like I am standing invisibly behind my friends and family watching this on a screen at my own funeral. I’m wondering: is nostalgia a symptom of the fear of death? You look at life as if you’ve already died and cherish it to the point you negate the present. I think that’s why I’m drawn to it.
My toddler Vinny loves to watch the montages on Amy’s phone. Having not seen his grandparents in a while, he claps each time a montage of one ends and cries until she replays it. Amy tells me that small children want to do the same things again and again for two reasons: 1) It’s how they learn. 2) It’s as if they are trying to relive the same happiness repeatedly so they can avoid shifting back into their normal, which is chaos and confusion.
Sometimes I worry about Amy or the boys dying, especially all at once—in a car maybe. What would I do? Alone in the house, I would watch and re-watch every video I have of them on my phone. I wonder if it would help. Maybe it’s the only thing that could.
I was stoned when I wrote the first draft of this. I’m stoned right now revising it. In between then and now I had stopped smoking weed for a little while. I quit smoking sometimes when the highs stop hitting like they should. I know if I quit for long enough, when I have it again, I’ll get that comfortable fuzzy feeling again just the way I want it. Already, I find myself smoking bowls again all day every day just to feel normal, by which I mean still utterly full of chaos and confusion but getting stuff done anyway. It’d probably be the same pattern if my family died and I was left with only pictures and videos: every time you attempt reliving a feeling, you lose more of the original, and with over-simulation, the feeling vanishes. You can’t escape the void.
Vinny’s crying again on my lap. He wants Amy’s phone. I do too. I think maybe nostalgia isn’t a symptom of the fear of death. It’s the fear of life.
Michael Wheaton is the publisher of Autofocus and host of its podcast, The Lives of Writers. For more to read, check mwheaton.net.