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Mother Of Passion

A Second Chance At Good-bye

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Your love is gr8ly appreci8ed!

Who would have thought that you could make a fortune showing people how to simplify their lives? The millions of dollars people have made, teaching others how to organize or declutter their space is astounding. It’s not a difficult thing to do really, but I’m blown away at the size of the fortunes made on this concept. I guess some need that instruction, how to sort, stack and fold to utilize their space more effectively. Is this why homes are being built so large there’s no yard left? Is it because we need more storage space, to harbor all the things we think we need to hold on to? Can you believe there are retail stores that focus solely on selling containers, for all this stuff we seem to think we must keep forever? Pretty baskets, boxes, and crates, in every color and size imaginable, just so we don’t ever have to face that day of reckoning.

When my mother passed, my father felt I should have all her personal things, being the only daughter remaining. I inherited several containers of old letters, yearbooks, photos, telegrams, and other memorabilia she was compelled to hold on to. After years of having these piled into a closet, I began clearing my space of all the clutter I felt was piling around me. Like so many of us, I had a bunch of similar things from my past, everywhere. Space taken up in bookcases and on closet shelves of old things I rarely ever looked at now. I had to ask myself, just what was I ever going to do with old report cards and such? Seriously, why keep all this stuff? It’s bad enough we need to keep so much, for so long, just pertaining to taxes. I know that will change, but that’s another story. So, the grueling task began, going through it all one container at a time. After sorting, I was looking forward to the re-organizing, I was going to make it fun. I didn’t need to buy decorative containers, I had amassed plenty, just by ridding the outdated things that were once home for them.

One beautiful fall day, I decided to build myself a bonfire and rid my yard of the pile of debris that had accumulated after the cleanup chore was complete. It was so nice just sitting there in nature, enjoying the beauty of my hard work, as the pile disappeared beneath those wonderful flames. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy sitting aside a great bonfire on a nice fall day? Breathing the cool, crisp air and the warmth of the fire before me, it was like getting a big hug from nature. I sat there engulfed in smells of pine, oak, and walnut and couldn’t help but think, this is the best aromatherapy there is. Companies try so hard to bottle these scents, artificially. Here, I had the pleasure of enjoying it all in its natural glory.

Sitting there, I remembered the huge container, of all I had sorted, sitting inside. I thought this would be a great way to say good-bye to much of this, so I brought it out. Because there were old papers, containing sensitive information, I didn’t trust just shredding these things. For some reason, we’re not able to recycle shredded paper anyway, so that’s not an option. There were too many personal things of my mother’s that I didn’t want to risk, just tossing out. As I pulled each handful out, I looked at some of them one more time. Her prom picture was so sweet, she was so young. I don’t remember who her prom date was, but that didn’t matter. Her face was all I saw. I held it, looking into her eyes, seeing her smile and the excitement in that day for her. I told her how beautiful she was and gently laid the photo into the flames.

I had always hoped my mother would come back, and I’d finally get the chance to say good-bye to her. I didn’t get to do that, back then. She was part of my daily life, for barely forty years. It’s been more than twenty years since that time now. Before she died, she wanted to leave her children something that meant most to each of us. She had many beautiful things from her life, an entire house full, in fact. I remember my father asked us all to write down what items we wanted most, from her. I honestly could think of only one thing I truly wanted. She never got the time to do this, though. Everywhere he looked, my father was surrounded by constant memories. The day soon came when he took those papers out, thinking he’d complete that task for her. I know he also believed it was the best way to remove some of the painful reminders of all he had lost. He set items aside for each of their children. As he held the paper and read what I had written, he realized with all the treasures he laid out throughout that house, what I wished for most, was not among them.

It was such a beautiful day, in more ways than one, as I sat by this fire. Placing the belongings of my mother’s life in the flames, I knew she was there with me the entire time, sharing all that I was feeling. She knew this was the right thing for me to do. Afterall, these were her memories, not mine. For me, we were sharing a last, and very personal, glimpse into her life. So many things she held dear to her heart, unable to detach from, things she was unable to discard for whatever reason. There were so many writings and photos of years past, it was like traveling thru her lifetime, all in that afternoon. Even standing in all this vast openness, it felt like such a private time between us. Having this alone time with her, was such a feeling of closeness.

All those memories of years ago came forth, with emotion, as I went through all these things. It felt like I was giving back all that made her life, hers. As though I was unlocking her personal memories from their confines, allowing her to take them with her. It was wonderful sharing so much about her, together. Her presence seemed to grow larger for me, as I placed her life into the fire, in a final farewell. It was as if they found their true place, no longer trapped inside those containers. I will always remember that afternoon, the bonfire we shared, the love that so filled me. I will never ever forget that day. The day my greatest wish, finally, came true.

Being careful going through it all, I found a pile of envelopes, tied with a ribbon. I knew this bundle was extremely special, seeing how she cherished it. It felt as though I was violating a sacred space, as I untied it. Tumbling across my lap, I realized these were all the love letters my father wrote to her during their courtship, during his years in the navy. His world travels during wartime and the events which marked both their lives. Between the two of them, those cards, telegrams, and letters, in themselves, tell an incredible story of their own. It’s a story of how and why they came to be, during the turmoil of those times. All that tore them apart and, ultimately, brought them together. A story of struggle, of conflict and difference. A story of truth and question. A story of oneness and separation. They were so young. From different worlds, but truthfully, one in the same. They learned so much together, so very much from each other. It’s why they truly believed in “till death do us part”, regardless. It was more than a vow between them, it was a promise they made to each other. I tied it back together and set it aside. I knew this bundle was their love story.

Although there are parts of that day, for me, that will remain beyond words, I couldn’t have dreamt of a more incredible way to finally say good-bye to my mother. It was amazing and filled my heart with so much peace for her. Even though it took some years, I now understand why I didn’t get to say good-bye, back then. This was meant to be, just the way it all happened. Had she come back, as I once hoped, I wouldn’t have had this day play out in all its beauty with her. Although it was the one thing I didn’t get then, I couldn’t have asked for more, now. Today, everything about it all, just felt so very right.

One day, more people will realize that less, truly does mean more. It all has to do with your perception of things. Material objects can always be replaced. The memories of those treasures always will remain within you. No one can ever take them. They will not be lost. I don’t think our loved ones leave things behind, intending to create a burden. They leave things, to be loved. There is nothing wrong with sharing that love with others, either. No matter what the object, if you don’t want to hang on to it, all you need to do, is look around. Most times, you’ll find another heart that would adore it, giving it a new home. There’s no need to feel bad either because you’re not letting go of anything. What is treasured about it, will always remain. People just need to realize it isn’t the object, but the love within it, that attracts you. That, my friends, is always a beautiful thing.

I never would have believed I’d get so much from them both, beyond life. My parents taught me so much. I’m looking forward to sharing more time with them, someday. Perhaps I’ll sit beside a fire with a glass of wine, overlooking the mountains somewhere when I pull this bundle out. We will all be together, when I read these letters again, and I know it will be as beautiful a day as this one was. Back then, reading what I wrote for him, my father never believed he could give me what I wanted. In my heart, I know he now sees he did what he thought was impossible to do. Little did either of us know, within all those containers of my mother’s personal things, my father gave me exactly what I had wished for. He gave his daughter so much more than those two little words written on that piece of paper.   

~x0x~  

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