Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye April 19 2010


A house – a home, a friend, a shelter,

A place alive with memories and molecules and stories,

Where pieces of all those who’ve lived there

Lie embedded.

On leaving, I am like a tree uprooted.

I've moved away,

Though roots and tendrils – tenacious – stay behind;

My  roots the love  poured forth within that house –

Along with sorrows, joys, laughter, pain – the memories of life.

When I go back to my now former house the day the furniture is moved,

I’ll say good bye –

Take leave of that of me that stays behind,

And pack up tenderly my bag of memories –

To store them -- treasures to unwrap and savor

When times are right, some day.



REFLECTION:

This Saturday, I’ll know if the house is truly sold. At that point, I’ll empty it of my remaining possessions, and leave it for good. It’s been “Grandmas’ House” since we moved here four years ago – the only grandmas’ house that the kids remember. In this house, we’ve welcomed friends, enjoyed many happy holidays, meals, parties, and tranquil times with family and with each other. Ellen and I both suffered serious illnesses there, and Ellen, as she had predicted and resolved, did indeed “leave feet first.” In fact, as her body was being removed by the mortician, I made sure he turned her in the right direction so her feet left first.

I’ll go back to the empty house the day after the move, to bid it “good-bye.” It’s the last place that Ellen and I lived together, and moving on requires that I firmly put those memories d in a trunk stored in the attic of my memory – and turn to inhabit fully the next wonderful chapter of my life.

I will weep as I bid the house “goodbye,” and visit for the last time the place where our cat, Merlin’s, ashes still fertilize the front garden as his spirit watches over the house.

I’ll plant a crystal in a secret place outside the house – a symbol of my willingness to pass the house on to its new owners, and to wish them deep happiness as they enjoy good lives within its walls – a symbol, likewise, of my enduring appreciation for the house’s embrace while we lived there.

I’ll turn away, deeply grateful for the blessings that my new life, new relationship, and new home have already bestowed on me. A chapter in my life will end at that moment, as another begins. My life – as I suppose all lives do – has seemed to have distinct chapters, each filled with suspense, mystery, delight, and discovery. I am truly blessed, as a beloved child of the Universe. And I give thanks.