“Let it go.” Those words strike terror in my very soul. “Get over it.” That’s something I’ve never been able to do and never foresee myself being able to do. “Just push it out of your mind.” ...Sure, I’ll just try to mute the memories. That shouldn’t be too hard. Just kidding… It’s IMPOSSIBLE!
I have never been able to let things go. As a child it manifested in several ways. The first and most common for children was for me to determine that “so and so hated me” after one incident. I would recall that incident for years to come. It would happen over and over again. That certainly didn’t help my social problems.
The second way it manifested was in my hoarding. I’ve been a hoarder ever since I was a little girl. I kept everything. If my mother came up to help me clean my room, I was miserable because she came in with a trash bag. As a child I wasn’t able to explain, but as an adult, I have a little more understanding. I felt that each item could someday be important. A card may be the last card I ever received from someone; a note that seemingly meant nothing could become a theme for a novel I would write down the road; a piece of clothing that didn’t fit anymore had too many memories in it to let go of. My hoarding has only grown with my age.
The third way it manifested was in my obsession with death. No, I wasn’t one of those people… I am TERRIFIED of death BUT carry those who have passed on with me. I always have. When I was just a little girl, I used to go outside and play with bubbles. I always blew my bubbles towards the sky. Inside each bubble, I’d whisper a wish. It was a wish for my great grandfather and my grandfather to find the bubble and play with it. Those I’d lost were on my mind always… even when I was too young to comprehend what it all meant.
I used to have a nightly routine. I had a glow in the dark tic-tac-toe grid. Each night, I would speak to someone I had lost then I would take the grid and, placing my finger in each space, say goodnight to the eight people I had loved and lost. The center square was reserved for G-d. Interestingly enough, two of the people, my Bubbe and Zayde, were people whom I had never met (but I talked to them anyways). Another one of the people was my neighbor’s husband (I was very close with my neighbor but really didn’t know him at all). When I look at it that way, I realize that I mourned people that I didn’t even know.
...A hazard of having a big heart I guess…
Looking at my life today, it still revolves around those I’ve lost.
My car and my computer are both named Lil Carol(e) 2. The Lil is for my great grandmother Lillian. The Carole is for my grandmother. The Carol is for my Carol who passed away a year and two days ago.
I have a picture frame in my room (in the shape of a ballerina). It has 6 photos in it. One has both my nana and my papa. Two more contain my nana but my papa is conspicuously missing. The last 3 don’t contain either of them. By the time those were taken, they were both in heaven. I call that frame my “If they could” wish. The other 3 photos are from events that I wish with all my heart they had been able to attend.
In my bed with me are many comfort objects, each tied to a particular person. I have my great nana’s blanket (which I sleep with every night). I also have my Relay for Life blanket (which I have slept with every night since Carol was diagnosed with Cancer). Beside my pillow lies a photo of myself and Carol. The doll my nana gave me, affectionately known as Pink Baby, lies on top of the photo. A square of blanket that my favorite neighbor crocheted for me covers Pink Baby to keep her warm. Then there are the animals. My sock monkey family had not been complete without a Grammy and a Papa monkey, so I got full sized monkeys for them. They both sleep in the bed with me. Then I have Rosie, the pink orca named after Auntie Rozie. I also have my hospital bear which my parents gave me and my tigger pillow pet which my brother gave me. I also have my white tigger which my uncle whom I almost never get to see got for me on one of his visits.
...and those are just the ones in my bed… the couch is full too!
The thing is, as much as I want for these weights to be lifted off my heart, I will never be able to let go. I strive every day to make my loved ones proud. I strive to be as loving as my Great Nana and as courageous as Carol. I strive to be as big of a role model as Dr. Marcus and as tough as my Nana. I strive to be as romantic as my Papa seemed to have been (I may have read my Nana’s diary 10 or so times…) and as creative as my Great Papa. I strive to be as determined (and Awesome) as my friend RJ. I strive to be as good of a listener as Mrs. Vaughn. Without carrying these people in my heart, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know who I am anymore. I am a conglomeration of them.
I don’t mean to say that I don’t have my own identity. I just know that each had unfinished business to do and that my goals align in some way with each of theirs.
...Not to mention, here I am alone. Now I like being alone, but I like being alone on my own terms… not all the time. I was thinking of getting an emotional support dog or a trained Aspie service dog (trained to calm, read your emotions and react accordingly, and be a constant companion. also trained to be hypersensitive so loud barking etc is decreased), but have been told now’s not the time. I don’t have the money to support a dog and I certainly don’t have the money to pay to train a service dog.
I understand completely why my mom feels that I need to let things go and move on with my life. I hope that someday I can… I know that I am not intentionally ignoring the suggestion. For me, the mere suggestion simply seems impossible.
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