Dear Mom (Oct 30/17)

Mon, Oct 30/17

Dear Mom,

Well, it is happening. A sense of normalcy is returning to life as I know it. It's hard to explain, but it is good in a sad kind of way.

I remember when my heart stopped missing Andre (will you ever forgive me for continually comparing you to our brave little kitty?). I missed the quiet little ache in my heart when life started filling up and moving on without him. I am feeling a little bit like that with you.

I still talk of you a lot and think of you even more. But (thankfully) "life" won't let me sit still in this limbo. There is much to do. And (finally) I am starting to do that which has been neglected for a very long time.

My world stopped in its tracks when you were hospitalized last November. The ambition that was driving me to clear out the clutter in our home and make room for a new life stopped cold. The box of items I had ready for my "next week's auction" sat untouched. For almost a year. Until last week.

I hauled out every little thing I was ready to sell last year and added all of my daycare supplies to the mix. The daycare toys that held value and could have been available if I felt the need to restart my daycare; the daycare toys that would have been great to have around if I ever became a grandma; the daycare toys which would have provided entertainment for any more daycare reunions ... they are all gone.

It was like ripping off a bandage. I did it without thinking (if you can call procrastinating a year not over-thinking). I put it all up for sale. It is gone. My old life has found new homes and will provide endless hours of joy for children I will never know. It is the end of an era.

I'm letting go ...

I should have done this months ago but I didn't have the time, energy or focus to see the job through. I needed a push. The push was the arrival of your belongings. You were instrumental in nudging me back into moving in a forward direction. There was not room for my past life, with "you" moving in with me.

Sigh ...

I would have done this for you. I was ready, willing and able to clear out the top floor of our home so you could move into our upstairs. But you wouldn't have it. It is good that you stood your ground and found your own strength and determination to stay within the comfort of your own home. It was the only right answer for you.

Instead, I have "a piece of you" with me which has been shared equally by all of us. A piece of you has moved in, creating the need for me to rid myself of some of the old and look towards the future. A future without you in a physical sense but a future with you woven so deeply into my heart, mind and soul that I will never feel like you are entirely gone.

As it was with Andre, it will be with you.

Life moves on, voids are filled and your essence will be forever entwined in my being.

A short little cat story for you:

When Andre died, we knew "there would never be another Andre", so we went to the S.P.C.A. with the idea of adopting a dog. The dogs didn't speak to us. But this little black cat reached out and literally climbed into our arms, our lives and our hearts. We adopted Jet and his spirit was that of a young, healthy Andre. Jet has an identity unto himself but he still carries the essence of Andre. It warms my heart.

This weekend, as I readied the daycare belongings for their final trip out of our door, I sat the umbrella stroller out as its new owner was soon to be on their way. I heard a little rustling in the living room and what should I find? Jet had found his way into the seat of the stroller and was nestling in. I smiled as I thought of Andre...

Jet (this weekend)

Andre (in his kitten days)

Andre (his second last visit to to the vet)

As I was in the process of letting go of the past, Jet hopped into that stroller and reminded me that even in the letting go, the spirit lives on and we can be transported back to the joy of when times were good, hearts were happy and it is the good stuff that sifts to the top when we relax, let go and move on.

I bought a treadmill this weekend, Mom. I need to start focusing on becoming a healthier me and this is a beginning. I needed to find an excuse to "move" and a bet with Dale (he thinks the treadmill is going to become a clothes hanger and fodder for next year's purging due to disuse, and I plan to prove him wrong) is going to inspire me to follow through on my goal. I am starting a new habit of waking up and moving every morning.

I put in my time this morning, came upstairs and had a drink of water and looked up. This is what I saw:

Hope. One word. And it encapsulated the spirit of the weekend past.

I'm looking up and past the year gone by.

I'll never forget it, but I'm purging now.

I'm keeping the good stuff and letting go of that which no longer serves a purpose.

I'm feeling braver than I have for a while.

I'm looking up again.

And when I do, I see "Hope"

Thanks, Mom. I like to think you may be nudging me along the way as I walk through this new life. I know I'm strong enough to do it alone but I'd really rather share the credit with you. 

You are a good role model for the style of life I want to create in this leg of my journey. I want to be determined, self sufficient, strong and healthy. I want to be a brave little warrior like you and Andre. 

I remember you saying with disbelief, "Are you sure he's sick? He doesn't look sick" ... followed with, "If I'm ever sick, I want to be sick like Andre". You were, Mom. You were just as brave and just as feisty as our little black cat. And that is a compliment of the highest regard.

I hope I have a little of you and Andre within me. It would be nice to think the two of you together. Kindred spirits seem to find each other. You will never be alone ...

With love,

Colleen