WHEN THE TIME FEELS RIGHT TO LET GO

During the last two years a lady named Talie Wood has written a regular column called ‘My Left Breast’ in our local weekly newspaper. Through the column Talie has shared her experiences post mastectomy whilst tirelessly fund raising for cancer care. However, the last column was headed ‘My Last Breast’ and for good reason, because at this stage in her journey to full recovery, Talie has discovered that there comes a point where it’s necessary to ‘let go’ of all attached to the experience in order to fully move forward. 

Talking of the past two years Talie writes, “….it’s me that’s been in storage, living in a parallel universe.” She goes on to write about how she’s literally and metaphorically wrapping up the memories, “…..I’ve found a box into which all the mementoes of the past two years are being packed; the remaining normal bra I have not managed to throw away, the Get Well cards, copies of these articles, the scarves and beanies I used to cover my bald head and the little odds and ends that helped to get me through the past two years.”

Talie’s experiences are not dissimilar to those of widowhood (and likewise some of you will also have had serious health problems to contend with). There does come a point for many people around the three to four years post widowhood stage, where grief has considerably lessened and life has evolved taking us with it.  We’re less prone to tears, our scrambled egg like brain has begun to function again, we’re better able to cope with all the demands of running a home or have made significant adjustments to make life easier,  and whilst never forgotten, are more accustomed to living without our life partner and to being independent.

Like Talie and others who in grief pour their efforts into something worthwhile and ‘landmarking’, when my husband and mother died within a few months of each other, I had to find something to do that would give meaning to their passing. For me it was the concept of Sunday Scene Breakfast Clubs and three years later, having achieved what I set out to do, it’s time to pack my ‘box of memories’.  Talie will continue her fundraising for cancer care and I’ll be devoting my time to the Sunday Scene website.  We’re each ‘letting go’ of the things that have helped sustain us through our grief and adjustment because to do otherwise would simply keep us locked into our grief and prevent us evolving more fully in the wake of our experiences.

Letting go may feel like disloyalty to our departed loved one but the alternative is to spend the rest of our life in despair, regret and stagnation.  So, when the time feels right, take those poignant mementoes such as letters, photos, cards or jewellery; lovingly place them in your box and metaphorically add any lingering precious or painful memories. Store the box in a place where you know you can re-visit it at some stage in the future if you feel inclined – and then ‘let go’.

Living the past is a dull and lonely business, looking back strains the neck muscles, causes you to bump into people not going your way.

Edna Ferber (1887 –1968)

 

Extracts from Talie Wood’s column ‘My Left Breast’ by kind permission of Chichester Observer.