On Going Home

Those of you who know and for those of you who don't, I lost a childhood friend to cancer recently. I returned home over the weekend for a memorial service. It was the first time I'd set foot in my hometown in 18 years. I left New Jersey and moved to Pennsylvania and have lived here since 1990. I drove through my hometown about six years ago when my aunt passed away. The place still looked the same, but a little different at the same time. The memorial was at a church my family and I attended which burned down five years ago and was rebuilt on the outskirts of town. The old one was at the center of town. It was great seeing everyone, under the extreme circumstances. The scene was also surreal. I felt like the scene at the start of the film 'The Big Chill', where old college friends are brought together by the funeral of another friend. Good movie, great soundtrack by the way. Obviously there was catching up to do, kids, marriages, etc. We reminisced about Joe and told stories. It made for a special time. Later that night, I got the tough question put to me, via instant message ironically, 'why did you leave?' It was tough to answer. First, my parents told me to get out of town and experience the world. Ultimately they helped facilitate this when they divorced and went their separate ways. So my parents were responsible with their actions and words. Some of it was me also. Pennsylvania became a safe haven for me to deal with their divorce and I had met some great new friends. Life started over for me, essentially. So, while moving on is nice, it is okay to go home once in awhile, say every 18 years. Until next week, keep learning.