Letting Go

A quieter day at work today and so I took the opportunity to take the short drive into town, bought lunch – scraping together the change from the bottom of my bag, coat pockets and the car, with it being so long until payday – and took it into the Memorial Gardens.  Others seemed to have the same idea; taking advantage of the surprising early March sunshine; especially after the seemingly constant rain of recent months.

My spirit was lifted.  I hadn’t thought it possible – it’s only been a couple of days – and I almost can’t believe it, but thoughts of you are not weighing me down.  That familiar gut twisting feeling of the last few months, a year maybe,  seems to have evaporated along with those deep February puddles.  I feel light and free, as I always do when the sun shines.  You know that. But today it’s different.  That realisation, I guess, that sad though it is, we really weren’t soulmates and I tried too long, 5 years and 2 months to be precise, to make us so.  There is a sadness, of course, but it’s being pushed down by my own overwhelming optimism.  I know you haven’t seen that of late, but this woman, the one walking to the only free bench in the park today, is happy.  I think for a moment, yes, that’s absolutely the word – happy, along with hopeful, and looking forward to life’s next adventure.  Bring it on!  I can’t wait.

I’m nothing if not courageous and whilst I’m never going to jump out of a plane or bungee jump off Beachy Head, I’ll try most things, as you can verify.  Strangely enough, the tarot card I turned at the weekend told me to ‘Ignite Courage’ and that’s exactly what I’m sensing now.  Smiling, I turn my face to the sun, soaking up its energy, adding to the strength I’m feeling.  

Your text brings me back to earth.  No, not crashing down, just breaking my train of thought. I’ll read it in a while, but for now I’ve noticed that this particular Memorial Bench I’m sitting on bears the name ‘Richard Reynolds – 29.6.1943 – 30.6.2013.”  Oh gosh, he died the day after his 70th birthday!  Is that better or worse than dying just before your birthday, or any other time of year come to that– clocked up one more year I suppose.  I pondered on Richard a while – how much sadness or happiness he’d had in those 70 years (and 1 day) and concluded that as long as the smiles outweighed the tears, that’s a positive, isn’t it?   “A loving Husband, Dad and Grandad” apparently “who will remain in the hearts of family and friends forever.”  As you will my love, but now it’s time to make room for someone else in this big heart of mine.

I read your text and unlike recent weeks, months even, there are no harsh words, no half-truths, just a simple question, which I answered, truthfully.  And then gathering myself together, saying a quiet goodbye to Richard, and to you, I headed out of the park and back to work – still smiling through the tears