When Letting Go Means Hanging On

I am an admitted highly emotional person. I can be brought to tears by a picture of a dog I love, the beauty in a piece of art and certainly by just speaking of the love I have for someone. I surprise myself when I am given the opportunity to walk through someone’s life event and it has an effect I hadn’t counted on.

Recently, someone I know only through blogging (DeniseGainey.Wordpress.com) shared a very private part of her mom’s passing. I know I was not the only one listening, wiping tears, and hopefully I am not the only one that was able to hang onto her hopes and fears. I hung on tight. It gave me a way to let go of my own mom’s passing. Both of them. I lost the mom I knew. The one who fed me. The one who decided to raise me, despite her own shortcomings and unfortunate history. When she passed, it was untimely. My mom wasn’t elderly. Her passing was ill timed. A brain cancer walked in through the front door and stole her. I was 40, she was 66. We were working at it…working at finding a space between us that we could both occupy. It was hard for both of us. She kept my adoption a secret and it made mothering hard, I think. I can easily get stuck in wishing that my childhood had been different.

This year, I lost my biological mother. Not quite found, not quite allowed. Unfortunate and ill timed, once again. Canyons of space between us. I looked for her in every face I passed, in every phone book. Her passing would come without me being able to ever see her face, to find something common we could both hang onto. The bend of our hands, maybe the regret could be silenced before she died.

I watched Denise with her mom, enjoying the daily exchanges of love, the enduring strength to go on, the fear of the end. I watched and hung on every word, sometimes feeling like an intruder, but mostly feeling feelings I have never felt before. When her mom let go, I did, too. There was a healing there. It is why I lean out to the world around me…I applaud those young folk bringing babies with conscious intention. I encourage young artists. I interact so that I can hang on their efforts and in turn, let go of what unfortunately didn’t go so well.

The world is so perfectly balanced sometimes.


About kat9090

Hafu (Half Japanese), Late Discovery Adoptee, Sister, Mom, Daughter, Wife, I cook, look back, look forward, lean left, drive a lot, write a lot, wish a lot, I will be square with you if you are square with me. Find me on Instagram @shojikat and Twitter @biteme9090
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1 Response to When Letting Go Means Hanging On

  1. Pingback: Milkshakes in Heaven | Trail Mix

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