The Return of the Prodigal Son

Years ago, there was a young man who suffered a loss so great, it changed the course of his life. Vibrant, daring, dream-filled, and willing to push hard to achieve what he wanted, he worked with steely determination to earn his right to be successful at two very difficult careers: law enforcement and professional acting. As each were budding and about to take off, his mother passed away from cancer. In the 3 years she spent battling the disease, he would often spend time in his room screaming at God to give him the disease and spare his mother's life. For the life of him, he could not fathom why God would want to take someone so precious and beloved, and so he sank into an abyss of self-hatred and worthlessness.

When the young man's mother finally passed away and upon hearing the news, he did not cry. He was more relieved than anything else having seen the incredible pain she had suffered. It wasn't until her funeral when the young man approached the podium to speak. As he attempted to read a passage from Romans in the Holy Bible, he was only able to get halfway through the first verse before the deluge of tears began to flow from his eyes. Knees buckling from the gripping sorrow, he was unable to continue and was eventually helped down from the stage by his brother.

In the years that followed, the young man struggled to be who his mother raised him to be: a caring, sincere, honest, and loving man toward others. Because that was who she was. Instead, he let the angst and anger of his mother's untimely death lead him down a long, dark path toward being prideful, stuck-up, and stand-offish with others. Eventually, he found himself in his late-40s, unmarried, alone, and looking back upon what he could have done differently in order to achieve the "American dream" of having a spouse and a family. The notion was sparked by seeing a couple of college friends celebrate their 19th wedding anniversary on social media, and he sat there enveloped by regret as he contemplated how his behavior after his mother's death must have alienated so many who could have been more important or significant in his life.

The regrets of his past caught up to him in that moment. He never really was one to ponder regret or curry favor with it when it wanted to rear its ugly head, but in that instance of seeing people he knew for over 2 decades announce their years of wedded bliss together, he couldn't help but give in for a moment. The words of Henry David Thoreau danced inside his head: "Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh." And yet, something felt off about the notion. That's when the words of C.S. Lewis popped in: "Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind."

The Return of the Prodigal Son, by Pompeo Batoni (1708-1787) is an oil-on-canvas painting of the infamous parable that Jesus gave in Luke chapter 15. With incredible attention to detail portraying the youngest son kneeling with regret and seeking forgiveness from his loving father, the moment is captured with gentleness and warmth. For those who know the story, it comes as no surprise that the father obviously appears wealthy, garnished with some of his finest clothes and jewelry. In stark contrast, the son is shirtless, wearing ragged pants, has disheveled hair, and is garnished with a rope as a belt from which a bowl hangs seemingly being the only item he owned which he likely used to peddle for money on the streets where he had partied too hard and squandered away his inheritance. It's a gripping piece and a gripping moment about a parable that means to tell a tale of great regret, and the indescribable forgiveness that follows without question or stipulation.

That's how life can be, right? In one moment, we embrace our successes and good fortune, and in the very next moment, we're looking back on some of the things we did not manage very well feeling regret and wondering what could have happened had we behaved or acted differently. Just as C.S. Lewis said, though, there are better things ahead than any we leave behind. Why? Because time is linear for humans and it cannot be changed or traversed in order to right past wrongs. To sit and embrace regret is to waste one's time and energy on the impossible. Therefore, as Thoreau suggested, taking inventory such that you don't move forward and make the same mistakes again is good, but to dwell and let regret have an influence on who you are today would certainly not be living life afresh.

As the man who is the subject of the opening of this piece is now sitting here typing these words, know that I am not without flaw. In the solitude that my past behavior likely caused, my worst enemy is my own mind. Writing, like I am now, is a lovely distraction, but most days I am forced to fend off the darkest parts of my mind in order to look forward with any semblance of optimism. I feel regret some days, and I hate feeling regret but I am also not opposed to it in order to make sure that who I am today is a lot better than who I used to be. Especially toward others. I ache with brokenness, and yet, I am glad I am broken. For how else would I know what mistakes I made and how best to hold myself accountable for them? In the end, indescribable forgiveness awaits at which time I too will kneel with nothing but myself and a heart that longs to never feel regret again.

Sistine Madonna

As my father has gotten older, he has slowly embraced understanding life's value. It wasn't as if he had avoided the idea through much of his life, but that in his retirement years, he knew he needed to get outside of his boxed-up world and see what else is out there before it's too late. So, with his passport in one hand and a map in the other, he began to gallivant around the planet. From Ireland to the UK, from the mid-west of the US to Canada, from the Everglades to Cuba, my father set his sights on his bucket list and began checking things off.

Not long ago, my father decided that he wanted to include his children in his worldly adventures, so he graciously offered to take each of us wherever we wanted to go. When it came time for us to decide, we wavered between returning to Ireland, seeing Iceland, or going all out by traveling to New Zealand. We just couldn't decide. Even Germany, the Czech Republic, and Switzerland were on our radar. But it wasn't until I had an epiphany one day as I sifted through a sea of travel brochures that I knew where we were going to go. As my father sat there open and willing to go anywhere I wanted, I shamefully never once thought about what he wanted. Fortunately, it wasn't too late so no cardinal sin of selfishness was committed. I then asked him, "What's at the top of your bucket list, Pop?"

"Venice," he replied. Now, at the time, my brother and his family were thinking Italy, but they balked at the trip because they felt their teenaged kids might not enjoy it as much as traveling somewhere else. Once I had my brother's assurance that he and his family weren't interested, my dad and I started to plan our trip. About a year later, we landed in Rome to begin our northern tour of Italy. From Rome, we visited the Isle of Capri, Florence, Pisa, and then finally Venice. It was the most amazing trip I have ever taken and I will never forget the experience. Italy is a magical country literally filled with ancient history that no human alive should ever miss. At no point were my eyes bored of what they were seeing.

Venice was the final city we visited. I wanted it to go that way because I wanted my dad's final moments in Italy to be in the most important bucket-listed destination. One day, we were informed that one of our scheduled tours of a local site was postponed so we had a whole evening to kill. When you're in such an awe-inspiring place, it can feel overwhelming. There are just so many things to do and to see that your mind goes haywire trying to pick something. That's when I suggested that we take advantage of our multiple-day water taxi pass, find a boat with seats up along the bow, and just enjoy the cruise in and around Venice and its neighboring islands. And so we did. It was relaxing, breathtaking, and the most poignant moment of our trip. Not just because of what we were seeing and enjoying, but because the idea of my dad's bucket list and us being in the one city he wanted to see the most all culminated in that one experience.

Sistine Madonna, by Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino (a.k.a. Raphael—1483-1520), is an oil on canvas painting of Mary, the mother of Jesus, holding the baby Jesus in her arms, flanked by Saint Sixtus and Saint Barbara, and being observed by two cherubim. It was a piece that was commissioned by Pope Julius II in 1512 in honor of his father, Pope Sixtus IV, to be set as an altarpiece in San Sisto, Piacenza. It is also one of the last Madonnas painted by Raphael who is one of the most talented artists of all time.

The haunting yet soothing image is remarkable in detail, and has long been adored for its implied hope. So much so, that in 1754, Augustus III of Poland purchased it and had it relocated to Dresden. There, it sparked many positive cultural and religious debates, and was hailed as being "divine" and "supreme among the world's paintings". What often goes unnoticed, though, is the sea of cherubim that surround Mary and Jesus. Overall, it's composition, detail, and inviting colors give most viewers a sense of calm and order; a sense of eternal significance and of wonderment.

Whether you believe in an after-life or not, knowing that the life you have now is the only one you get isn't too difficult a thing to conceive. And as my father likes to say, everyone has to face their own mortality at some point, and death is 100% for all. His sage words got me thinking about my own bucket list. Currently in a rather scrambled state, I definitely do spend time contemplating about the places I'd like to see before I have to face death. Most of the time, I'm adding things to my rudimentary list as they arise in conversation or have been inspired by something I've seen. Ireland (I'm Irish by blood), Iceland, Germany, Switzerland, France, Italy (again, please!), New Zealand, Vietnam, Malaysia, French Polynesia, Fiji, Costa Rica, Madagascar . . . my list goes on and on. Like I said, it's a scrambled mess, but after my experiences in Italy with my dad and thinking about his beloved bucket list which is growing shorter and shorter as time passes on, the value of all of this world's beauty has exponentially grown. I cannot wait to see things I never thought I'd ever see.

My dad won't live forever, I know this. As much as my heart aches at the thought of life without him around, I'm also reminded that the life he's led has helped influence me to be who I am today. If I were to boil down all of my dad's fathering qualities into one singular outcome in me, I'd have to say curiosity. Through his leadership, discipline, sense of adventure, and willingness to appreciate this gigantic world around us, I'm now someone who has to sate his curious nature through mediums such as this. You wouldn't be reading my blog if it weren't for my dad's influence upon my life. And now I get to further my curiosity by growing my own bucket list which I too hope to significantly shrink over time.

Pop, I hope you know that every adventure I go on, I dedicate to you. As my curiosity finds satisfaction, it will be in your honor. Thank you for this wonderful gift that never stops giving.