Alone

A fresh perspective

It was a late summers evening of my early childhood. I was probably nine or ten years old. I was in a restaurant with my parents. Amongst all the people around me, my family, other patrons and the restaurant waitress I noticed a man. He was an old man, crouched over the edge of his table slowly taking small bites of food. He would occasionally look up and stare forward towards the empty seat across from him. He would slowly glance back down to his plate of food and continue his meal. I studied his mannerisms. He was quiet and unassuming; polite to his waitress and seemed truly grateful for the attention. My heart began to burn within me. Tears began to well up inside me at the thought that this man was truly and utterly alone. There was no one sitting across from him. There was no love of his life staring back at him. There was just an empty chair where perhaps his wife once sat and gazed lovingly back at him. The laughter was gone. The memories faded and now there is just emptiness.

I recall those moments of my youth as they happened more than once. My heart was poured out for these souls. I suspect it is because I loved my own grandfather so much. Maybe these moments were uncomfortable reminders that not everyone had it as good as my grandpa had it. We were pals. I followed him everywhere he went, and it was no secret to anyone around us that he was my hero. My grandma knew it, my parents knew, even folks around town knew. This was evidenced years later at his funeral when someone else at the funeral put my picture in his front chest coat pocket. Yet I am still haunted to this day by the lonely man in the restaurant.

My first time on an aircraft carrier was a journey filled with fear and curiosity. I knew there were many places on that ship that were dangerous (most of them on the flight deck) but also areas of great intrigue. My first time on the fantail of the ship (the rear most part of the ship) I recall just staring out over the blue ocean. There was nothing for miles, just open water. I inched myself ever so close to the railing to try and block out the other ships to my left and right. I wanted to see nothing but the ocean all around me. Once my peripheral vision was saturated with blue water a sinking feeling came over me. It was a Seminole moment for me. I imagined myself being stranded out here in the vast Atlantic Ocean with nothing but water around me; utterly alone. The brief realization was scary and sobering.

This memory poses an interesting backdrop when I consider my life as whole. Time wears on and years go by. If we are lucky, we might find someone, fall in love, have kids, rais a family and enjoy the blessings of family and loved ones until we are called back to that eternal harbor of souls. That moment on the fantail of the USS Saratoga marked the beginning of a spiritual journey for me. It was from that point on that I wanted to find the answer to my question: if I was truly alone then who put me here and what is my purpose? If we are honest with ourselves, this is the question most of us should be asking. I did a pretty good job of filling my life along the way of this journey. I believe I found the answer to the first part of the question, but what about my purpose. As I continue along the path of seeking answers, I am still haunted by the thought of one day being that old man in the restaurant. After twenty-five years of marriage, five children, and numerous dogs, I am still beating back the fear of being alone. The wheel of time grinds on and it is coming for us all but loneliness is a state of mind.

They say you are as young as you feel and that age is just a number. I believe there is some truth to that. In many ways age is a state of mind. However, being alone has to be that as well, if not even more so. We do such a good job of filling our lives with stuff. We fill our calendars with things to do, our contact list with people, and our phones with social media to pass the time. If we can break free of this matrix we will recognize we were always just like that kid floating out there alone in the ocean. Take all the stuff, the people, and the places we go to and it’s just us alone with our maker. That much has never changed for me. Even in my darkest hour, when the house was filled with children laughing and crying, dogs playing and barking, and a job full of demands, I was utterly alone!

As I sit here writing this, I am just a middle-aged man alone with his dog. The old man in the restaurant still haunts me. There will come a day when time and perhaps that old man overtakes me, but not yet. I am grateful for a full life. I am grateful to my friends, my family, and those who put up with me. I have lived a life many would envy, but I am not done. The voice that moved over the waters, that voice that spoke the world into existence, and called my name so many years ago, still beckons me and leads me to horizon I may never reach. For it is along the way that we find purpose. It is along the journey that we find family, friends, and memories. Where this road leads me now, I have no idea. I am alone, as I have always been, and surrounded by those who are dear to me.

But perhaps solitude itself is a peculiar gift, one that forces us to confront the truths we often bury beneath the noise and chaos of life. In those moments of quiet, when the world has stopped demanding our attention, we are left face to face with ourselves—our dreams, our regrets, our beliefs. It is here, I think, that the veil of distraction is lifted, revealing not just the weight of being alone but also the profound beauty of self-discovery and how much we mean to our creator.

I have come to realize that loneliness isn’t always a curse but rather an invitation. An invitation to take stock of the life we’ve built, to reconcile with the fears we carry, and to nurture the connections that truly matter. I wipe away the tears but the memories still remain as thick and meaningful as ever. The old man in the restaurant, with his empty chair and quiet demeanor, wasn’t just a symbol of sorrow to the nine-year-old me. He was also a teacher, silently reminding me that every joy, every love, every memory we create in this fleeting life is fragile and fleeting—but that doesn’t make it any less worthwhile.

So, I try to carve moments of stillness into my life, not to dwell on loneliness but to embrace its lessons. These moments have taught me to cherish the laughter of my children, the companionship of close friends, and even the fleeting joy of a wagging dog’s tail. They’ve also shown me that while I may never fully banish the fear of being alone, I can choose to see it not as the end of the story but as a chapter—a reminder of the depth and complexity of the human condition.

Biernutz71

5/20/2025

I would rather die with Christ and hope in my heart and be called a fool than to stand over the dead corpse of the republic and say, I told you so.”