Friday, May 30, 2014

You're going to have to let go


Someday something you love will slip away.
Nothing is forever.
You're going to have to let go.

 I mourn places I've lived,
connections and friends and an idea that life could be a certain way.
The world keeps going around,
and people and notions grow further away.
 I want to hold and contain them.
They are sand through my fingers
and closeness becomes subject to a
moment in time's ever fading memory.
But wanting and missing and craving and mourning
are too jealous for this world.
There's no room for such emotional immaturity.
The world marches forward, only forward
Maybe we march together,
or maybe our roads go in opposite directions, as most eventually do.
Hands don't stretch that far.
You're going to have to let go.

My daughter just turned 5
and I still let her sleep in our bed
and I still pick her up and carry her places like a baby.
Picking her up feels like we're hugging,
her sweet, fresh hair, buried into my neck. Stop.
I want to suspend this moment.
Her long dangly legs, heavier by the day
but still, she's my baby.
And my heart aches at the memories of my baby. My baby. She'll always be my baby.
You're going to have to let go.

My hospice patient can no longer walk on her own
and it pisses her off. "I was so independent" she tells me.
I see an old woman starting her journey to death
with a personality that is jamming her feet in the sand as she is pulled closer to death's door.
She was a dancer. A mother of 4. She was widowed for 20 years. She can take care of herself. She's got a can do attititude
Except now she can't
You're going to have to let go.

I've lived in this house for 6 years.
I've been married, suffered a miscarriage and bore the most
miraculous daughter.
No house of mine has ever contained such memories.
I sit here now, aware of how small this space is and how ready we are.
But that's where she learned to walk.
That's where we learned we lost the baby.
That's where we nearly got divorced but didn't,
That's where I said I love you and really really meant it.
It's all in here, it's energetic memory bouncing off the walls. Our walls.
We're going to have to let go.

I wanted another child. So badly.
We tried. We really tried.
But the idea I was so fixated on is drawing out it's true reality,
three years of trying.
I mourn this, the big family I seemed destined to not have.
I'm going to have to let go. 

The wind comes in and dies.
The ocean kisses the shore then leaves it.
The Earth doesn't stop moving.
But there is no mourning.
The Earth is the wise one. 
It has learned to let go. 








1 comment:

Jacque said...

Summer, As usual your words pull at my heart. You have such a God given talent and I thank Him that He allowed our paths to cross but mostly I am grateful that He allowed you to cross Judy's. She could have gotten someone that was just doing their job but instead God loved her so much He brought her you. I thank you for the you, you allow yourself to be. Blessings and Abundance,
Judy's Mom