Letting Go

Sometimes there's a moment in life where you have to give up hope.  Consciously.  I have always been incredibly practical about death.  About dying.  When I was a little girl, someone we knew passed away and my godmother, Mary, bought a book to help my mom explain death to a child in a way that wasn't scary at all.  It's called The Fall of Freddy The Leaf and even into my adult life, I've found great comfort in seeing death as something that is as natural as the changing of the seasons.  Something that visits every living thing on this earth from time to time.  It's far less scary to think of it like that and there's certainly less hurt or anger involved.

Even when my grandmother got sick and passed away, I quickly came to a place where I was ok with letting go of her presence on this earth because I loved her so much, I did not want her to hurt, and if you know anything about me, you know my grandmother is someone I loved with all of my heart.

So at this moment, it's almost ironic, that I am sitting here trying to process the fact that my godmother - the wonderful woman who helped me understand this process so long ago - is dying.  I have no idea how long she has left on this earth, but I know it is not long now.  And all I feel is angry.    And hurt. I know intellectually that this is not a healthy response and that I need to just breathe though this time because there's nothing I can do to stop it, but my heart is not listening.

I cannot explain why my heart is being so stubborn in this situation, but I had a moment as I drove home this evening where I actually said out loud "Jesus, I don't want her to suffer, but I'm so angry right now."  I don't even know who I'm angry at - or if it's really anger at all.  All I know is that late this afternoon I had to let go of any hope that my godmother will get better.  

Letting go of hope - in any situation - is undoubtedly one of the most difficult things the heart has to do.  But maybe, once that happens, healing starts?

Just a thought.