Saying goodbye

August used to be a month I dreaded, heavy hearted as I flipped the calendar page. Several people I love have died in August. Too many death-a-versaries. Too much loss.

I decided to pivot, choosing instead to embrace this month. My daughter’s arrival 19 years ago shifted me from a sad space to joy and wonder. My bestie’s birthday and other friends/family are also in August. And we even named our Goldendoodle Auggie—yep, short for “August.” We just welcomed a new fur baby, Melody, mid-August. And I launched my weekly blog (now also a podcast) EVERY SOUL HAS A STORY in 2017.

AWE-gust has been filled with hellos and goodbyes. Revelations and reveals. I decided on August first that my heart and mind are ready for growth, births, books, and new beginnings. And, wow, when you set an intention, the universe will often present lessons to be learned.

We also dropped my youngest off for her first year of college. Some of you know she bravely flew the coop her junior year of high school. I didn’t know if she or I would make it two years, to be honest. But she did it. And it wasn’t without bumps, of course. When she walked across the stage in May at Interlochen Arts Academy in Michigan, graduating with honors, another milestone and moment that reminded me what an honor it is to be her mother.

I have pictures of her room, the overflowing cart, the goodbye hugs. Watching her walk away from us, excited and eager to begin this new chapter. I have those photos too.

So why am I sharing this one? Because of this guy. I am the luckiest girl in the world:

My husband, best friend, my bashert. His arms wrapped around me and humor uplifted me. Even while I wiped my nose on his shoulder in the middle of a parking lot.

Our daughter left the nest, and our son left the country for a semester—all in one weekend. Such a bold, brave choice to study in Japan. Until he landed safely, I was an anxious, jittery mess. Hearing his voice, seeing his face, and joining in his joy of this amazing adventure has allayed the momma worries of my firstborn being so far away.

I’ve had unforeseen meltdowns. In the baby aisle at Target. (How did I even get there?). Between bites of a protein bar in the car. On the plane home as a mom fed her newborn a bottle.

A few years ago, I would’ve sucked it up. Convinced myself to only see the silver linings. I mean, isn’t that how perpetual optimists exist in the world?

The story I told myself, and perhaps this was self-protection, was “Why cry when I have so much for which to be grateful?”

Well, friends, my body begged to differ. My abdomen used to swell. I became intermittently anemic with no known cause. Emotions, seeking refuge and eventually screaming, and will inflame our bodies when we don’t release them.

So, what do I do now?

I let loose. I wail without restraint. In public, in private, wherever. This is something I needed to practice. Funny, right? I rarely, if ever, saw my parents cry.

I write to understand what is at times murky or confusing. The answers often appear on the page.

I sit by the lake, ocean, pool, even a stream and disconnect from tech to connect with myself.

I walk barefoot in the grass, breathing as I envision roots grounding me just like the palm trees nearby.

And long, steamy showers! They figuratively and literally cleanse my spirit; I feel my body exhale as the water washes over me.

Through a tear-streaked face, I smiled last week and took a deep breath. Deliriously exhausted and incredibly proud. Also stunned because I don’t feel old enough to have two college kids! Though my achy joints reminded me after of hours schlepping dorm accessories.

I miss my kids. The house is quiet. My nest is empty yet my heart is full. I’m grateful for my husband as we, too, begin a new chapter of our lives.

I’m still learning to let go. Another moment, so heart wrenching I cannot share it all yet, happened yesterday morning. Our Izzy crossed over the rainbow bridge. Yes, in August. My kids’ childhood dog. My healing puppy, my rescue, who really rescued me. I’ve written about Izzy before. And I’ll write more about him next month.

Speaking of tears, as I write to you, droplets are trickling down my cheeks. I held Izzy close to my chest, thanking his sweet soul again and again for endless unconditional love. His heart pulsed faintly, synching with mine, as I nuzzled my nose into his soft, white fur. And I thanked him for teaching me to trust when it’s time to let go.

Hugs,

Dara