Stripped

Loss is a many splendored thing. I’ve had that line running through my head over and over again for at least the last month. It’s the end of the year which brings the inevitable annual look over my shoulder. And that looking has brought that line to my head. Not because this year has been fun. Not because this year has been easy. But because through the immense pain and complete loss of this year, there has been beauty revealed that I never would have known was there.

Losing my Dad and one of my very best friends within 4 months of each other has completely stripped me of what holds me back. The two main culprits being ego and fear. I can trace so much of my hesitance and withdrawal back to those two.

But now, it’s as if a veil has been lifted. It’s not like I chose to rise above and cross over some line and be outgoing. When I lost these dear ones, I also lost that part of me that cared more about the world’s appraisal of me rather than simply living every single day to the best of my ability.

I find myself shocked by my response to people, circumstances and events. In the middle of something I will suddenly realize how different my response has become. The move to Tennessee is probably the biggest example. There was a time when I would have completely lost it at least once during the month long process of moving us across the country. I would have been anxiety riddled at the thought of a realtor coming to appraise our house and its worth or the movers touching all of our stuff. I would have sunk into a ball and cried, for weeks, in the face of leaving everything familiar for something, somewhere I knew absolutely nothing about. Instead, I’ve been excited and completely nonplussed by the realtor, movers and short sale process. I’ve jumped into our new home head first and loved every minute of it. And other than the bad week last week, there’s been no crying and no withdrawing. It’s amazing.

And so I’m uncovering more gratitude in the face of these tremendous losses. Gratitude for a freedom I never thought I’d have. Gratitude for a perspective which has allowed me to live in a way that not only would make my Dad and Laurel proud, but also that allows me to be who I truly am, in all of my glory and imperfection. Without judgment. Without fear. And what a truly many splendored thing that is.

Chaos

The last six weeks have been absolute chaos. Moving my family of 5 (and a tiny, but high maintenance, dog) across the country. Getting the kids into their new school. Unpacking and getting the house organized. Getting my Mom here and settled. And then finally feeling like I might come up for air and realizing that the holidays are about 3 days away. Chaos. It’s just been absolute chaos.

But even in the midst of all the crazy, there have been a handful of quiet moments here and there. And in those moments, my mind always drifts here. To this process of loss and the people whom I’m missing so dearly as the holidays approach.

I had a really bad couple of days last week where I was missing Laurel so much I could hardly breathe. Where I was having the enormity of the move and everything that goes with it come crashing down on my head and I so desperately wanted to talk to her because I know she would have let me vent and then given me just the right perspective to get my head screwed back on straight. And if not, at least she would have cussed a whole bunch with me. Jesus, I miss her.

And our new home is steeped in Civil War history. Which means that I can’t even go to Target without thinking about my Dad. His birthday is about 3 weeks away. And I miss him. So much. I want so much to go tour all of these historic sites with him and watch his face as he steps onto hallowed ground. I want him to see how big Jamison has gotten and see his eyes light up as he watches the baby discover something new. My Dad took so much delight in his grandchildren. It makes me unbelievably sad that Jamison will never get to know that delight.

Loss has also taken on a note of absolute tangibility since moving as well. As I no longer have direct access to the community it took me 10 years to build. I’ve yet to meet anyone here who isn’t just about the nicest person ever, but when I was in the midst of the bad week this last week, I couldn’t go out with my girls. I couldn’t have lunch with a girlfriend and vent and cry. That absence served to compound the loss even further. So I retreated inwards. And baked a bunch of bread. And didn’t leave the house for a week. And was super cranky with pretty much everyone. It was not my finest moment. But I am allowed some adjustment pains I suppose.

Adjustment as I weave in and out of the eye of the storm. Perhaps that is the lesson of the last 6 weeks. Learning to soften further so that I can be pliable in the chaos. Fluid enough to absorb whatever jolts and jerks come my way on this path of immense change.