Letting Go When You’re Clinging to Life as it Was
Last night, I had a dream.
I was knocking on the front door of my childhood home, but no one would let me in.
I pulled on the door — locked.
I peered into the window — nothing but darkness.
When I woke up, I realized the dream was true. This past weekend I helped my dad move out of my childhood home of 33 years. The home we shared with my mother who died 4 years ago. The final closing of the house is this afternoon — and when it’s done, i’ll be locked out forever.
I thought i’d come to terms with it — I made a photo album with plenty of childhood pictures of me and my family in the house. I did one last walk through, conjuring up as many memories as possible. I helped my dad decorate his new place.
It was all going to be okay — until it wasn’t. When I woke from that dream I was hit with a wave of emotion so intense I burst into tears. I kept thinking, It’s just a house. It’s a material thing. Why am I clinging so tightly to it?
Then I realized the house was merely a symbol — It represented life with my mom when she was healthy.
It was climbing up those front steps with my little son in tow, and seeing her smiling at the front door. It was swinging with her on the porch swing in the back yard or walking around the block and talking about life.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. My mom was supposed to see her grandsons grow up.
But instead, here I am, pulling on a locked door.
That locked door isn’t just a symbol of my life, it’s a symbol for the nature of life itself, and the fact it’s constantly changing, regardless of how we feel about it.
In some ways, the universe is soft and malleable, and we can mold it to our liking. We can change our bodies by lifting weights. We can earn more money through hard work. We can new create things that didn’t exist before we came along.
In other ways, the universe is hard and fixed. And it won’t budge, no matter how hard we bang on the door.
We’ve all bumped up against locked doors. Some bigger and scarier than others. When I think about it, they are all around us.
The friend who is going through a divorce, looking at old family photos.
The parents on the news who just lost their 6-year-old son in a mass shooting.
The co-worker who suddenly lost a job she loved.
Life closed a door on them, and they’re locked out.
It’s our natural instinct to cling to our idea of how life should be, and to reject change when it’s not what we wanted. We withdraw. We drink to forget about it. We check out, mentally and spiritually.
Is there another way to respond?
Sometimes the only thing we can do is turn around, slide down that door and cry. Just feel the pain of it. But what next?
I heard a quote from a favorite meditation teacher — she was quoting the author Franz Kafka who said:
“You will lose everything you love, but the love will always return in new forms.”
It was true.
After my mom’s death I have grown much closer to my dad — more so than I ever would have if she’d lived.
The growth that came from that loss prompted me to start sharing my writing with others, and I developed connections and emotional bonds with people through our shared experience.
Maybe my friend’s divorce will help her realize what real love looks like.
The mother that lost her child can reach out and grasp the hands of other grieving parents and they can all feel less alone in their pain.
The coworker that lost their job will discover what she truly loves to do with her time.
So we can cry when the door slams. We can bang on it until we’re tired.
But sooner or later, we need to let go of the struggle, and let go of the door knob.
We have to give our real, present life another chance. We can choose to open up, and allow love to return to us in new forms.
I have a feeling it always will.
