If you love something
Let it go
If it comes back
It’s yours
If it doesn’t
It never was
(Anonymous)
She
found it at a garage sale in 1980. Lacquered paper on wood, it was meant as a
hint. I was 16 and madly in love with a neighborhood boy – or so I thought.
What do we really know at 16? My step mother was trying to insinuate that there
are other fish in the sea. I ignored her.
As
time moved on, the plaque followed me like a wise, old friend. Always finding
an inconspicuous spot on the wall, it reminded me of what I knew that I would
eventually have to do – let go.
This
good friend was there when my young brother died. He died at his own hands. I
do not care what one’s religious or philosophical beliefs are. That hurts! One
does not easily heal from the effects. The friend followed me through my failed
marriage, the births and trials of raising my children, and then raising my
grandchildren. The final straw was the death of my father and the excruciating
pain of emotionally letting my sweet daughter go in another direction. Too, too
much had happened. Again, my now wiser and much older step mother suggested I
let go. “Find closure,” she suggested when I turned 50. Now much wiser, myself,
I invested in her advice.
The
first thing I did was find out where the boy was in life. Was he even alive?
Yes, he was and still married to the same woman after nearly 30 years of
marriage. Bittersweet as it was to find that out, it was a relief. He was an astonishing
person who had a lot of influence on me for good. Because of him, I was able to
avoid some nasty relationships. The rationale was that if he was ever to show
up, I wanted to be available for him. This rationale also allowed me to examine
the type of men I was attracted to and why. By this time, I was in a position
where I did not need another man in my life. They needed to be my friend first.
I had succeeded on so many levels without this companionship that I was
incredibly cautious as to who would be allowed in our lives.
Because
of this neighborhood boy from long ago, I was able to write stories depicting
areas of my past - long past and faded into another time. He was a pure example
of championing for the underdog. He had this insidious ability to bring out
talents in kids who otherwise would not have known what they were capable of
accomplishing. My brothers were recipients of that gift. He gave others hope. I
am not sure that this fine man or his family was aware of the lasting impact he
had on others. We experienced adventurous that were mainstays through some of
my darkest days and nights. They were reminders of better days past and to
come. I expressed that gratitude on a
popular social network that I knew he belonged to. And although he did not
respond, I feel that he did read it. I wanted nothing more than to express that
gratitude and move on. It was peaceful being able to do so, especially given
that he was still married to the same woman after nearly 30 years. What an
accomplishment in this day and age of superficial marriages! Too, I was content
with who and where I was. I live in a culture and area far removed from where
we came from and it satisfied me. To let go of this individual was huge and it
lifted an even bigger burden from me. I have not looked back except in
endearing fondness for the memories.
I
served a mission for my church. Part of it was due to advice of my step-mother;
part of it was to escape the memories of the neighborhood boy who was now an awestruck
newly-wed. Part of it was an attempt to let go of my deceased brother. Part of
it was intuition. It was time to move on. Again, I met another boy who wooed
and promised me wonderful but untrue things about our future together. Another
wise friend saw it for what it was worth and sent me a laminated postcard with
the same quote. At the time I saw the friend as anything but wise. He seemed
jealous and immature. Oh…how wrong I was! This same person is still my friend.
He, too, has been married to the same woman for nearly 30 years. He is more
educated and fun than I could have ever imagined. I still have the postcard. He
was right.
I
married my now ex-husband on a whim. An embarrassment to his family, they never
could accept me. I was not from the little town he grew up in. I was outspoken
as well as a number of other things. The marriage was a disaster from the
start. The pain lasted far longer than the marriage. On the day that I turned
50, I moved my family into the first house that I felt genuinely comfortable
with. The smell that emitted from the house reminded me of the neighbor boy’s
childhood home. One of the bathrooms reminded me of his parent’s bathroom. It
was comforting. The smell only lasted for several days and then it was gone for
good.
My
now ex-husband, who was not only divorced from his third wife, had a daughter
who was 3 months older than one of our granddaughters. He helped us with this
move. Within a month of moving in and a week away from Christmas the car
problems started. No longer in town, we lived way out in the boonies. It was
cold!!! This time, though, we had a garage. He helped us, even loaning me his
car. Not long after this, I was in my first car accident in 30 years. The one
30 years prior was a small fender bender. This one was major. Luckily, the
other driver only sustained a very minor head injury. I got the brunt of the
impact and was very fortunate that more did not occur. My son had a difficult
time looking at my car, realizing what could have happen if…Again, my ex
stepped in and helped. Not only did he loan us his car, but he helped find me
another car. The new car came with some problems. Of course! He helped my son
with repairing it for as little cost as one could ethically get away with. He contended that he was only helping my son.
Either way, I was grateful and was finally able to let go of the past. He and
his family could dislike me all they wanted to. It was liberating to finally
let go of the crap. In letting go of the anger from this spoiled marriage,
along with the memories of the neighborhood boy, I gave myself permission to
experience healthier relationships. Doors seemed to open in unexpected ways. I
found myself genuinely happier. It actually surprised me to feel that again.
Long time coming that it was.
When
my dad died, there was no time to mourn. Busy with working, finding better
employment, co-parenting my two very active granddaughters, and getting ready
to go back to school for a second Master’s degree, to say that I was swamped
with responsibilities would be an understatement.
Several
people had commented that there was another person in our apartment. One
individual even described where the person was standing and what direction he
was standing when she felt him. It wasn’t the spooky, eerie sort of feeling.
They all felt that there was an aura of comfort and compassion from Beyond by
whoever was guarding us. This was in the months just prior to my dad’s death.
One night, as I was driving home it occurred to me with such an impact that it
was my brother. All of a sudden it made complete sense! He had always been
nearby and I did not recognize that it was him. People can say what they want
about this experience. They can interpret it to mean what they will but in my
heart I feel it was my brother who had died 30 years ago. During his very short
life I had literally defended him multiple times, even going so far as to beat
up the neighborhood bully on his behalf. Now was the realization that he had
been watching out for me and my children all along. After viewing the scene of
my before mentioned accident, my son strongly contends that we were saved from
a far more different fate because of my dad and brother. But then, that is
simply our belief and nothing more.
In
letting my dad go, no longer was there the anger and frustration of what kind
of father he should have been. I could appreciate all the fine qualities that
made him unique. I could further welcome the abilities endowed upon me because
of him.
In
allowing my children to grow up, they have in turn blessed me with
grandchildren who are now my world. Don’t tell me about the limits of aging –
there’s no room! And gratefully I am able to keep up.
We
are blessed by challenges that try our heart strings to be taught. One of mine
was my daughter. In every way a mother could, I tried to protect her innocence –
even when she did not want to be protected. Like me, she wanted to test the
waters and be independent. She wanted to experiment with everything Life had to
offer. Some scars do not go away. Well meaning people warned me to let her go.
By trying to protect her, I was only thwarting her own progress. She needed the
opportunities to learn from her challenges. I had to allow my daughter the
freedom to make decisions for herself – along with the consequence that arises
from those choices. True growth is a result.
Letting go means to
move forward. It is not that we care for the person or situation any less. It
means that we allow them to make their own choices to move into a more positive
direction. It is remembering what we choose to, no longer burdened by its constraints.
No longer are we controlled by its thoughts. In letting go, we make the choice
to take control over the situation. We empower ourselves to rise above the
situations that once held us back.
If you love something
Let it go
If it comes back
It’s yours
If it doesn’t
It never was
(Anonymous)
Kelli
L. McDonald
July
20, 2014
