About 4 years ago I made the decision to move south to be nearer my increasingly frail mother. Little did I realise what the consequences of that decision would be. While that’s true for many of the decisions we make some have more far reaching effects than others. Three moves later, with the millstone and not inconsiderable continued expense of my original home in the north hanging over me for the duration, with a housing market on the verge of collapse, it’s value ever decreasing, I found myself in a situation, which if indefinite, could break me.

There was a logic to it though, a sense of a repayment, karma, being played out regarding a deal I made with death. It’s interesting the things we’re prepared to do for those we love. Sacrificial love is not something I’m much of a fan of. Usually it seems to me that love gives to both, or all involved. But sometimes that isn’t the case, nor does one fully comprehend the cost of any sacrifice which seems called for (nor sometimes the wisdom thereof, but in this case it was a price I was happy to pay).

Finally, nearly three years after my mother died that particular journey will be over and I can move on. For months now it’s felt as if I’ve been hung over the edge of a cliff and told to just stay there but I may well be cut loose and fall at any time. It hasn’t been especially pleasant. Relaxation has not been on the cards. But when I finally saw the comparison of what I’d asked for on my mothers behalf with what was happening to me I trusted the process. And oddly, or maybe not, it was when I gave that trust that it all fell into place.

I have a lot of practical things to do in the next few weeks, but I can do that. There is so much tidying up to do, not just of physical crap, or of an ending of the hardest period of my life, but that I largely raised my children in that place. It will be a release of many years, of some interesting and fulfilling times, of a strange yet safe, welcoming and beautiful area and home. I left in such a rush I never got to say goodbye. If I get the time (quite possibly unlikely since it may even be a push to do everything needed and get sleep) I’ll take a last walk along the canal and the river and collect the bits of myself I left there, or maybe just say goodbye to those too.


4 thoughts on “Release

  1. “I can go on. I will survive. ” Narrow may be the way but we can be assured by the crack of dawn. We can be assured even by the Phoenix. We can be true to a greater self and trust in the path provided no matter how dark the night. You convey it for me so well in your *story* and it would be nothing without the deep feeling and perhaps worthless without the angst.
    Enjoy that walk!

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