The Art of Letting Go

Lucy had trouble letting things go. Not in the sense that she held grudges but actual things. It was a fact that Lucy’s home was a museum of memorabilia from her life; worthless but tangible objects that were priceless to her, each infused with special memories. Lucy held on to them, year after year, unwilling to unwind herself from the security that each memory offered her.

There was the ticket stub from her 10th birthday. Her mother had allowed six girlfriends to go with Lucy to the theater. They watched “Hook” and for the rest of the evening were delightfully spooked by her father speaking in his deepest, pirate voice. There was the flower from her first crush, pressed between pages 263 and 264 of her copy of “Little Women”. The book itself was one she would never part with as it was the first classic she had ever read and a gift from her father. Written in red ink just inside the cover it said, “To my favorite little woman, my sweet little Blackbird, Love you forever, Dad”. That inscription meant even more to her than the book or the flower hidden inside.

It was the sentimental things that affected Lucy the most. Holding onto mementos gave her a sense of stability in an unstable world.

As a child, this habit of clinging to things made keeping her room uncluttered especially challenging for Lucy. If she accidently left her door open as her mother passed by, she would have to stop whatever she was doing and make an effort to straighten up. In reality, all Lucy did was find better hiding places for her treasures. This trend continued in college with her roommate replacing the role of her mother.

An old soul, that’s what her grandfather had called her. Lucy wasn’t sure why but if it meant that she was different, then she had to agree. Other kids would beg for toys only to grow tired of them all too quickly, moving on to the next new thing. Lucy wasn’t like that at all. She clung to each stuffed animal as if they were small friends that she was responsible for. Even now, they rest quietly in a carefully packed box on the top shelf of her closet and even now she remembers each one of their names.

As an adult, this habit of clinging to things made break ups especially challenging for Lucy. She knew it was proper etiquette to return a ring once a relationship ended, but how could she hold the memory of what they had shared without it? Surely she couldn’t be expected to lose a boyfriend and then also have to let go of the symbol he had given of his undying love? And no, the irony was not lost on Lucy. She knew that she had created a survival technique that did not always make sense. But her need to survive outweighed her desire to appear logical.

Through the years, her friends and family had tried to diagnose why Lucy was the way she was. She had seen an episode of Dr. Phil where he said trauma from your past can create odd or peculiar behavior in people. Lucy had never thought of herself as particularly odd or peculiar; maybe a little eccentric, but she was definitely familiar with trauma.

In her 30 years of life, Lucy had experienced an unbearable degree of loss. She had her first bitter taste of that loss at just 6 years old.

That last month of her mother’s pregnancy, Lucy could barely contain her joy at the thought of a baby brother. She spent an entire afternoon with her head buried in boxes of her old baby items searching for her stuffed giraffe that rattled when you shook him. She had been especially fond of it and had plans to give it to her brother as soon as he was old enough to hold on to it by himself. Once Henry was born, Lucy was consumed with being the best big sister she could be. For two and a half months, Lucy’s morning routine had been to climb out of her bed and sneak down the hall into the nursery. She would lean over the bassinet and gently place the little giraffe next to Henry. Lucy would then lovingly kiss him on his soft, round cheek. “Good morning Sleepyhead”, she would whisper as his eyes would flutter open.

This daily ritual was why Lucy and Henry had become inseparable. This daily ritual was also why Lucy had been the one to find Henry that morning. As usual, she made her way to the nursery on tiptoes so as not to startle the baby. She peeked into Henry’s bassinet and saw he had kicked off his covers. Henry’s tiny fingers still clutched the blue blanket that was now partially covering his face. Lucy kissed his cheek as she had done so many mornings before, but her lips were not met with his usual warmth. A slight chill cooled her lips and Henry’s eyes did not open at her touch. The sight of his little body so still and lifeless frightened her and she called out for her mother.

The rest of the morning was a blur to Lucy who had curled up in the corner, clinging to the little giraffe and weeping softly as her mother sobbed openly. She might have stayed in that corner all day had her dad not scooped her up and taken her to the park down the street, giving Lucy a much needed reprieve from the raw emotion that threatened to drown her. Lucy’s young mind managed to block out much of the rest of that week, as people came and went offering condolences and leaving casseroles. What Lucy did remember was hearing hushed arguing from her parents room and tears in her mother’s eyes for many weeks after.

Lucy was sent to stay with her grandparents that following summer. They loved her deeply and Lucy returned their affection. She would sit at her grandfather’s feet, enthralled as he told stories about all the wonderful places he hoped to visit. When he and her grandmother had first married, they had big plans to own a home in the Spanish countryside where both of their parents had been born. “Why didn’t you do it?” asked Lucy. “Why didn’t you ever move to Spain?” “Because our ship never came in!” her grandmother interjected with a sigh. “Every time we thought we saw it, it ended up being someone else’s ship!” When it was clear Lucy didn’t understand, her grandfather pulled her up beside him to explain. “If you have ever seen a ship on the horizon, it can give you hope that something good is on its way to you. But it is also possible that the ship is actually leaving and on its way to someone else, bringing them the hope you were expecting. A life without hope is no life at all, so it is important to never stop watching the horizon for your ship.” Lucy tucked away the memories of that summer she spent wrapped in the comfort of her grandparents’ love.

At 10 years old, just months after Lucy’s birthday, her life once again changed dramatically. She came home from school to find her entire room packed up in boxes. By the door sat her pink suitcase and the tie dye backpack her father had given her at the party. He had told her at the time that it was for the hiking trip he had been promising to take them on. Now, here it sat, filled with her belongings, but the dread she felt in the pit of her stomach told Lucy this wasn’t the trip she had been hoping for. As she tried to sort out what was going on, she heard a taxi beep his horn in front of their home.

Her mother instructed her to say goodbye to her father. “Goodbye?” cried Lucy. “Why would I tell him goodbye? Isn’t daddy coming with us?” Lucy’s mind reeled and her tears began to flow as she realized what was happening. She ran to her father and he lifted her up in what was to be their last embrace. “Don’t let us go Daddy, don’t let go!” Lucy desperately pleaded. She clung tightly to him but in the end her mother managed to loosen her grip and pull her out the door and into the taxi. With tears streaming down her face, Lucy watched him through the rear window. He was her hero, how could he betray her like this? How could he just let her go without a fight?

Now, 20 years later she was on her way to meet him. “I must be out of my mind,” mused Lucy as she drove slowly through traffic. Cars honked as they passed her but she hardly noticed. Suddenly Lucy was overtaken by a wave of anxiety that made her feel nauseous. She flipped on her blinkers, switched lanes and pulled her car into the parking lot of Ocean View Park. Lucy parked in the one spot that offered her a modicum of privacy. She opened her door and stood for a moment, just breathing in the sea air. It was a hot day but the ocean provided her a refreshing breeze that settled Lucy’s stomach. She closed her eyes for a moment and wondered out loud, “What was I thinking?” Opening her eyes again she scanned the ocean as if it contained her answer.

That’s when she saw it; a ship, barely visible, sailing on the horizon. The memory of her grandfather’s words, previously so carefully stored away, resurfaced as she squinted in the sun, straining to see the ship. She knew it was silly but suddenly the direction that ship was taking had become very important to her. She was running a little late but that didn’t matter. She wanted a sign, no she needed a sign that she was right to believe there was hope. Of all the things Lucy had held onto in life, hope was the one thing that always seemed to evade her. Now, in this moment, that ship held the power to give back the hope that had been ripped away from her as a child.

It seemed an eternity, but Lucy refused to move on without knowing. “Please be my ship,” she whispered under her breath. It was then she realized the ship appeared to be growing larger. No, not larger, closer! A tear of thankfulness ran down Lucy’s cheek. She knew it didn’t really make a difference and yet somehow it really did. With one final, deep breath she climbed back into her car.

Turning around to back out, her eye caught a glimpse of the unopened gift on her backseat. Sent by her father on her 21st birthday, it was a bottle of Merlot to celebrate her coming of age. She had refused to even open it, determined to defy his attempt at reconciliation. Lucy had decided at the last minute to bring it with her to the reunion. Seeing it there, with its wrapping untouched, having lost its bow years ago, this memory now seemed like a weight on Lucy’s heart. In fact, the thought of how she had clung to things so tightly suddenly felt like a burden that she desperately needed lifted. She pulled her car close to the trash receptacle and tossed the unopened bottle in. Lucy vowed to let go of what she had actually been holding onto; the grief and despair that had become her constant companions. With a renewed sense of hope, she headed for the café where they were to meet. A smile crossed her face as she felt the weight of a thousand memories lift off her soul. She was finally ready for change. She was finally willing to let go.