Death and Relations Can be Painful

An Ennead Letting Go's (of My Past)

Letting go of my past does not mean that I am letting go of my memories.  When I think about my life, and the many things that I have gone through, I still arrive at the the conclusion that I have had a very good life.  In fact, I have had an exceptional life.  However, i have also arrived at the conclusion that there is still some baggage in my life that I should let go.

Sine 2010 I have been on a journey.  I have traveled the distance of three full years.  The journey has been hard, inspiring and enlightening.  I have learned a lot about me.  I have shed some very old feelings for some very new ones.  I have not loss my sanity, but gained some new insights about me.

For years, I clung to my Mother's death like it was the Holy Robe!  Every day, her memory grew bigger and larger than life.  She became a saint, and I could not let her go.  Her ,memories were every where.  Her pictures were throughout the house.  Her clothes were still in my closets and her smell seemed to linger throughout the house.  But, she was long gone.  She quietly bid this world goodbye with a smile on her face at 5:03pm, November 29, 1993.  I became froze in time.  I was alone, at least that is how I reacted.  My Mother, confidant, and best friend for life was gone.  Her transition stole my joy for living.

Almost two years earlier, my father had transitioned from this earth.  His leaving did not leave me with a major void.  My biggest emotion on his departure was when my plane took off from Fort Lauderdale on its with to Maryland.  As the plane ascended, I suddenly burst into tears, and my only thought was, "ole Black Charlie" would never be standing there to meet me ever again.  That thought made me very sad.  Landing in Maryland, my dad was quickly forgotten, and life went back to neutral.

Twenty (20) year later, my brother transitioned.  I was numb.  The last of my Mother direct seed remained only with me.  How sad.  Yes, my brother's children are here, and there are a lot of them.  My children are also still here, and there are a lot of us.  But, none of them know the first seventeen (17) years of my life.  None of them can talk about our life in Screven.  Not a one of them can remember what dog candy taste like or how cut up you got running through the cane fields.  Those are memories that I shared with my brother.  My brother, who toaught me how to shoot a b-b gun.  My brother, who would not fight for himself or no one else, and made me the fighter that I am today because I fought for both of us.  My brother who would sing his heart out in tune with the radio, and knew every make and model of every car or truck that was ever built.  Oh God, what a loss, and what am I going to do?

Move forward.  Yes, I am moving forward.  Moving forward means letting go of the past, and living in the present.  Learning from my past and applying it to my present.  Remembering my Mother, father, and brother with love, respect, and happy thoughts rather than with sadness and grief.  I am faced with eternal grief or moving forward.  I choose to move forward.