My Never-Ending List of Nevers
The one-way trek from always to maybe to never
Never as Alpha and Omega
Now that my life is two-thirds over, one word in the English language has taken on extra special meaning: Never.
The word is powerful because it conveys certainty and conviction; a universe of psychological certitude wrapped up in five letters. Never is its own beginning and ending.
If the word were a shape, I’d imagine a very short, very straight line, connected to nothing else on either end. The opposite, perhaps, of an infinity loop.
The word never — the idea behind it — is sui generis, in a class by itself and not to be confused with any other notion. Even its Old English roots are unequivocal: “not ever,” “at no time”.
There really is no such thing as ‘almost never,’ just as there is no such thing as ‘a little bit pregnant.’ By definition, never offers no loopholes.
It’s the finality that gets me. I am a few decades from not being alive, and decades are easily grasped — far more finite than, say, ‘half a century’ or even the phrase ‘decades from now,’ which implies a long, leisurely stroll into the future.
The list of things I will never do, never see, never experience grows longer with each passing year. The odds are shifting — and not in my favor. Never will win more and more often.
The Never Express
To be sure, into every life, at every stage, many nevers must fall. A post-menopausal woman will never bear a child. A person suffering from dementia will never regain all their memories. A child who learns to ride a bike will never unlearn that skill.
So it’s not as though experiencing a state of never is unique to aging humans.
And to be fair, there are choices I was never going to opt for at any age. For me, that includes bungee jumping off a cliff, skydiving, scuba diving, and allowing bugs to crawl on me. But I excluded those experiences by choice. I employed never, in such cases, as a form of positive affirmation — a way of asserting my own agency.
There are also many experiences and opportunities that years ago I might have guessed — even placed bets — would never come true and yet they have, which is good. These include getting novels written and published, speaking in public without fear, and living near water.
These canceled nevers (nevers that never happened) bring joy and satisfaction.
No Escape
Still, the word never grows more poignant the longer one lives with it. There is no escaping from the new nevers, reams of them, which are looming. More of them will come true than ever before, trending upwards like a hockey stick on a graph.
For example, I will never see all the places on Earth I want to see. One might argue that I was never going to see all those places, from Bali to the Orkneys, in my lifetime, and that this was true in any given year.
The difference now, however, is that it’s increasingly unlikely, soon approaching unthinkable, followed by inevitable, that I will visit even a fraction of the place I have long dreamed about. As time and opportunity diminish, the power of never increases.
Add to the list: I will never master the art of aerial silks — the soft trapeze-like air-dancing that Pink makes appear so effortless. I enrolled in a class a few years ago and had to drop out when I discovered how prone to injury I’d become — the tendons in my ribs literally snapping, my foot screaming in pain. I was certain I could learn to do this, and now I know I never will.
Also, I am losing my hair, in patches, due to a condition called end-stage scarring alopecia. The never-ness of this condition is implied in its title. The end of life for thousands of my hair follicles has arrived. Hair will never regrow where baldness now reigns.
I will never usher in the new year in 2065, or 2066, or any year after that, and possibly several years before those.
The Wisdom of Acceptance
Never is not ‘maybe.’ It’s a for-always thing.
There is always a new never coming toward you. You can run, but you can’t hide. Never say never is a lie. Never is as real as it gets.
As the nevers pile up, I can think of only one way to cope. And that is to say yes and I will and I can to as much love, adventure, art, beauty, sensual pleasure, radical empathy, and experimentation as I can possibly squeeze in amid the onslaught of big, black nevers.
The nevers are coming for me, and I vow to be ready.
Amy L. Bernstein writes stories that let readers feel while making them think. Visit her website to learn more. Aspiring to write a nonfiction book? Check out Amy’s book coaching business.
