Letting go

Letting go is never easy.  I have thought about that a lot over the last few days.  Today I felt it in a more hands on way and was prompted to write this entry.  On Tuesday and Thursday mornings I have Max's Shrimp swimming class at the YMCA.  I love it.  I remember watching the moms and dads with their babies when I was pregnant and thinking about how fun that would be, and now it is us in the pool.  Max loves it.  He gets excited as soon as I put on his swimmer.  It is a small amount of time that is set aside for just him and I (and sometimes daddy.)  I hold him as we sing songs and he kicks splashes and even goes under water.  But today I had to let go.  Literally.  The teacher said it was drafting day and that she would pass the babies back and forth and we would let them go, if we felt comfortable, for just a few seconds.  I was so nervous, but I knew Max was ready and would be fine.  I could feel myself get anxious and as he floated un-attended for those few seconds I felt such a surge of panic and awe.  My baby was swimming, on his own!  And he was fine.  I hugged him and we all clapped and he smiled.  I had let go and we were all still okay. 

Letting go is hard.  Two days ago the US rid the universe of an evil man.  I could almost hear the sigh of relief that went out over our country and the world.  He was gone.  Now it was time for healing and letting go.  I did not lose any loved ones on 911, but I still felt pain, sadness and fear.  I believe that everyone did, no matter where you lived or who you were.  I was pregnant with Sage on September 11th 2001 and I think that made the day more emotional.  We had just moved to New Mexico and were living with my parents until our apartment was ready.  I remember sitting by myself on the end of my mom's bed crying as I watched the buildings fall.  Savannah came in the room and asked what was wrong, I told her that I was very sad and that some bad people had done a bad thing. 

My mom and I had wanted to do something, anything to help.  So we made up dozens of red, white and blue ribbon bunches and stood on the corner handing them out to cars.  As we interacted with complete strangers and heard honks of support we felt proud of how our country was joining together, almost joining hands in an invisible fashion to show that we will not back down.  We will instead come back stronger.  But in order to do that we had to let go of the fear, hate and sadness we felt.

Another negative that was a result of that day was a fear of Muslims.  This is ridiculous and allows evil to win.  In May of 2002 I started working at a shop in Old Town Albuquerque.  Some of my neighbors were from the Middle East.  Some were Muslim and they were wonderful.  As my friendship with them grew, I quickly let go of any misconceptions I may have had. They watched out for me and fed me. They became my friends. When I was pregnant with Saxton they checked in on me and made sure I was safe when I worked after dark.  (I always worked alone in my store.)  I felt as if I had been given a gift of understanding and knowledge.  (This continued during my studies of Africa, Islam and Muslims at Colorado State University.) 

I can't begin to understand the grief that those who have lost loved ones in 911 or the aftermath have felt.  I would never preach to them and tell them how to deal with such a tragedy.  But I do know how hard it is to let go.  When my marriage died I felt pain, frustration and disappointment.  I had lost my faith in relationships, in happily ever after.  I had to make some very hard decisions which caused a lot of heartache. I had to let all that go. 

Something strange also occurred to me on Sunday.  In April 2009 I went to see ground zero.  It was a bittersweet feeling.  You could see the rebuilding happening over what was once a grave.  Just across the street is a church.  I went in, paid my respects and said a prayer.  Then I found this necklace that was a replica of the two beams that had fallen from the World Trade Center to form a cross.  I bought it, tied it around my neck and didn't take that necklace off for two years.  I wore it to Africa, during my separation and divorce, during Max's birth.  Its significance meant something to me, brought me strength.  Then, a few weeks ago, it finally fell off.  I was showering with Max after swimming and he was pulling on it, which he liked to do. Anyway, the twine finally gave, the cross slipped slipped off and I caught it in my hand and for a moment I was sad.  That cross had been a security blanket of sorts.  I constantly touched it, said prayers while holding it, and had rubbed holy water on it many times.  (I even sent my best friend Lauri to that same church to get the same necklace, in hopes that it might ease her pain after losing her baby girl.)  And now it had let go.  And as I said, I thought of that cross on Sunday.  I told Jerry it was funny that it fell off right around the same time that evil had been killed.  I guess it had done it's job.  



Now I am not saying that I won't put the cross back on.  (Right now I am wearing my St. Justin pendent that my sister Kathleen has the duplicate of.)  However, I feel like it was a sign that it was okay to let go and in return, I would find inner strength, faith and trust.  In addition, I can only pray that those who also need these things, will also find them.

Max while still in the hospital.  It was our last night and I was staying with him in a room by ourselves.  I was so nervous and scared that something might go wrong.  I remember praying a lot that night.  Here is a picture of the cross and my St. Justin necklace.