On the passage of time.

Why do people cry at graduations?

My a cappella group’s spring semester concert closed last night. People cried.

Why are we crying? I suppose that’s easy to answer. Our friends in the senior class are graduating. This is their last concert before they leave. And the rest of us who stay behind are going to miss performing with them. As an a cappella group, we’ve made many fond memories with them over the years. When they’re gone, things are going to change.

But let’s be realistic. Sure, there is a modest sorrow that arises with any change to something that brings joy as is. But this also should be a joyous occasion. Our friends our graduating! They are getting the degree that they poured their blood, sweat, and tears into and moving on to the next bright chapter of their lives.

Besides, some of our seniors are still staying in our city after graduation. We’ll see them around, so it’s not really goodbye. And the majority of our group is non-seniors who will return the next school year, meaning the general makeup of the group will remain the same. So I guess things aren’t really changing much, are they? But then why are we crying?

The tears seem to stem from that melancholy feeling linked to the passage of time.

Why is the passage of time melancholy? Perhaps because it reminds us of our collective inevitable fate: death. It’s a gloomy sentiment, but it’s true. We have a finite amount of time in our possession, and every tick of the clock reminds us that we’re using it up. From a less macabre perspective, the passage of time may make us think of how much we’ve changed from a previous version of ourselves, and how far we may yet have to go.

Over spring break, I had dinner with my extended family. They were the same people I’ve been having dinners with since I was in elementary school. In the car ride home from that dinner, I started pondering. I’ve been here a thousand times, driving home after a family dinner, watching the lights on the road, chatting with my dad. It’s a genre of moment I’m overfamiliar with. But it’s also a little different each time. If this same moment were in the context of my life two years ago, I would be pulling hairs over the homework I had yet to begin for my computer science class.¹ Five years ago, I would be riddled with anxiety over college applications. I started getting emotional over these thoughts. Compared to the uncertainty of then, I feel like I’ve found my place and passions. I was proud of how far I’ve come—despite everything, I survived! I get to experience this moment! But how many more moments like this are there to come? Finite time means finite moments. Will I know when it’s the last of these moments? Will this be the last of these moments?

So you see, there is something emotional about the passage of time. But time is always passing, and we certainly don’t see people shedding tears over the passing of every second of every day. In fact, we spend most of our daily lives not really paying attention to the passage of time at all.

I believe it is not the passage of time itself that we have such emotional reactions to, but rather, the tangible representations of the passage of time. Checkpoints in our lives that remind us of the Earth’s incessant spin. Graduations, weddings, retirement parties—these are all ostensibly joyous events. And yet we cry! Because it is evidence that reminds us all of that melancholy fact: time is leaving us behind. In its dust, we are nihilistic about our finite lifespan but also find purpose in our infinite capacity for change. We are both mortal and malleable.

All these existential epiphanies harmonized in a single moment of graduation caps thrown into the air. It’d be weird not to cry.

1. I started out in college as a double major in Physics and Computer Science. I dropped the Computer Science major after my freshman year. I like sleep too much.