A Lifetime of Letting Go

As we (mostly I) proceed with the winnowing of our earthly possessions, I find myself reflecting over the many stages of letting go in my life. That train of thought has brought me to dig deeply and try to remember the first conscious thing of value I had to give up. The very first, which I don’t remember, was my dad going off to WWII. He was home on leave when I was born, but left for the Pacific theatre soon thereafter. I suffered no ill effects, as far as I know, although it must have been very difficult for my mother. My first memorable sacrifice was my princess throne relinquished at age 30 months when the intruder, my brother Mike, was born. That was a tough one whose effect lasted more years that I am willing to share.

The second strong sense of letting go was when I let go of all my young school friends to transfer to another school in the eighth grade. I didn’t know it would distance me so severely from all my childhood friends, but it was not difficult because the new kids were so friendly and welcoming that the transition was easily made. Then leaving the comfort and security of a stable home to go away to college was quite an adjustment. Looking back, I see that my parents were wise in encouraging my brothers and me to strike out for independence. I didn’t realize then that they were letting go of even more than I was.

One of the most emotional releases was along the same vein as it was the day all of our children (both of them) left for college at the same time. Contrary to what I supposed, it was one of the hardest days of our lives. Buzz and I came home and sobbed for what seemed like hours. It had been a sunny, busy, fun-filled day with lots of chatter prior to our leaving home in the morning. And we returned home at dusk to a mausoleum. We knew that we had released our sons to the world, and that family life as we had known it would never be the same. Most of our responsibilities as parents were over ~ and we knew it. To this day, I still feel a twinge of sadness as I remember; but we wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Buzz and I have had to give up various friends and relatives to death through the years. His parents passed away in the earlier years of our marriage. Then in 2005 we began losing some of those closest to us at a staggering rate. He lost his only two (older) brothers. Soon after, my vibrant, vivacious, exceptionally bright and alert mother passed away after a brief illness. At almost the same time, one of my closest friends died. Then nine months later my dear middle brother, Richard, died unexpectedly. Then another best friend died just before my precious dad passed away. Each death was devastating in its own way. I learned that no matter how many loved ones you give up, there can always be more. And I learned that we don’t necessarily grieve concurrently, but consecutively. Grieving takes time. There are no shortcuts to this kind of letting go. It took years in my case.

So this brings us up to the present. After much thought and prayer, Buzz and I let go of the church family of which I had been a part for 65 years. Not exactly easy, but quite doable under the right circumstances. And so we move on. Now it’s the only house we’ve ever lived in during our 42 years of marriage that we’re letting go of. We can’t allow ourselves dwell too much on the memories these walls have seen. We have pictures, both mental and on paper. It has been our shelter in the time of many storms. And we pray that it will provide a blanket of warmth and protection to some other family in the years to come. We’ve gussied up the old girl, and she’s in good shape for the next occupant. And we hope she’ll be appreciated and cared for as well.

So, it comes to me as I write, that the physical possessions with which we are parting are of little value compared to the other meaningful partings we have experienced. I learned long ago when I went to the overwhelming gift markets in Atlanta and Dallas that it’s all just junk. Some of it is really beautiful, expensive junk. But junk, nevertheless. The hardest things from which to separate are the ones with the sweetest memories attached. And we can’t put a price on those. But even then, the folks connected with the memory will be with us in the hereafter; and I believe the trinkets of life will hold no meaning or even memory as we at last behold His Glory.