Sunday, September 20, 2009
The goal of existence is unknown to all inhabitants of planet earth. It has bewildered philosophers and stupefied intellectuals alike, yet to this day we all try to leave a footprint of our existence behind in order to prove that we were here when this alleged goal or meaning to life is found. For centuries humans have found ways of leaving a mark, it could be something small and humble like a cup or something monumental like the great pyramids but one thing links us all, the yearning to be remembered. I have one piece of history that will not go down in any books, nor will it be hanging in any museum; something really simple that is loaded with sentimental value, a picture of my dad and his dad during a Sunday walk in the streets of Bogota, Colombia. It is the only existing photograph of my father as a child. There are many more pictures of these two people, but none have them together in the same way. When the older of the two passes this picture will take on more depth, it will bring up many questions to the minds of those who see this picture and become, in essence, a mystery and a memoir of a life that no longer exists. And ultimately the inevitable passing of my father will end the story of this photograph and it will be just another picture of a father and a son in everyone else’s eyes, but in mine it will be the precursor to what will become my life, my search for the meaning of existence and my effort to leave a footprint on this floating ball of dirt we call home.