THERE IS A MOMENT at the end of Life of Pi where Pi (the survivor) and Richard Parker (the tiger) finally reach land.   Pi, collapsed on the beach, finds his throat so dry that he cannot speak, cannot utter a word as Richard Parker, his nemesis and sole link to his old life, slowly slinks into the jungle, never to be seen again.  With the quiet whish of a tired tail, both a defining relationship and a way of life are over.

When I moved to Hawaii almost ten years ago, I was mostly optimistic about my prospects at making some kind of life.  I found most of my connections through work and church (as most relationships require some kind of medium for regular connection).   Ebb and flow as they did, they were still good.  2012 was the year many of those connections changed.  While some of that change started earlier, this was the year I felt it most.  Church friends left.  Work friends left.  Shifts in families happened.  I fumbled my way through most of it.¹  And in the end I sat there, mostly like Pi, unable to say much of anything.  And what was there to say?  “Stop?  Don’t do this?”  I may have tried in some cases, but to no avail.²  Life moves on; the tiger has left the beach.

A friend once told me that when things change in life that are beyond you, any opportunity for “renegotiation” is rare.  Once the initial “deal” has changed, coming up with a “new deal” is difficult if not impossible.  I’m curious to see how that plays out in 2013.  I choose to believe that some kind of recovery is possible, though what new thing you find might look and act a little different.  I do know, as I end 2012, that significant parts of my way of life over the last nine years are over.  And I grieve that, though not as one who has no hope.  The tiger has left the beach, but something else is on the horizon; “there’s another hill ahead.”  Make no mistake: 2012 was a solid year full of good moments with great people in beautiful places.³  I am a million ways grateful for all of them.  But 2012  had more than its fair share of “Richard Parker” moments.  That’s why I’ll give him some credit here at the end of the year.

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¹  I have long known that I’m not the best at maintaining relationships.  I’m frustratingly passive-aggressive.  Maybe one day I’ll get it right.

²  It’s such a strange place to be in, and we’ve all been there.  How do you hold on to what is good but also move ahead, push forward?  I suppose things like high school and college (and even graduate school for some) feel different because they have “terminal moments.”  Almost everyone around you walks across a stage and moves on from there.  I wasn’t expecting versions of that to happen this far into adulthood. Shows how much I understand things. . .

³  A few of them: senior trip to Maui (sometimes you just have to step up); late April trip to Portland to visit the coast and see former students and spend two days listening to Donald Miller talk “story”; a great baccalaureate and end-of-the-year with seniors; a good summer school experience; a fall break trip to Denver to see dear friends (and their little one) and a part of the country I had never seen before.  Yes, 2012 was a great year.  But something about that Richard Parker moment stands out as a real through-line for me.