Letting Go, Something I've Been Struggling With.




Letting go has never been something that has come easy for me. I am a person who loves deeply,  meaning my emotional attachments are strong to all I come in contact with; people, places and things. You always hear people say that memories are treasured in our hearts (or for arguments sake, our minds) and that we will never forget all that we cherish. For some that may be true, but I can't escape the reality of life, being that life guarantees us nothing, but expiration--including our memories. Essentially, memory is all we have until we don't. 

Shortly ago, my parents sold my childhood home and it's been something that I have been silently struggling with (as I do with most struggles). At first it was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that it was actually happening, and then I dug a little deeper and realized it had not much to do with the actual house being sold, but more so having to let go of what was inside of the walls. I shared a room with my sister for 10 years before she passed away, and even when our home felt no longer like a home, I could always find comfort in our room, though she wasn't there. It was my sanctuary, the only place I went to breakdown the walls that held me captive, the only place I could connect with my sister other than her grave. Though the feeling of her embrace is completely psychological, I can't help but to feel like I'm losing something more--more of her maybe?

In all, the move is good, especially for my parents. I don't know how they were able to stay there for as long as they did. I guess you can say we're restructuring. For me, the move has definitely brought my attention to parts of my wound that I have yet to tend to--I am afraid of forgetting her. 

Grief is weird. 







No comments :

Post a Comment