grief, Kenwinks, letting go, living forward, parenting, Photograph by Ken Gehle, widow
I helped my daughter move from the Grand Canyon to Bozeman, MT outside Yellowstone this week. I followed in her car while she drove a U-Haul across 4 states with her life inside. Once again, I couldn’t help but think that her dad should be here so I had a little chat with him to stay close. As we entered into Page, AZ I got a little choked up. The last time we were all there her father was in remission. Pulling out of town, a hawk flew close between our vehicles. If I didn’t know better I would swear he could see me when he looked right down toward me through the windshield. The next day in Idaho I had to open the windows and keep sipping water to fight off a wave of panic. There was no present reason to be that stressed out except that, again, he should be here. As we dropped out of a mountain range into a valley, The Valley by k.d. lang came up on my iPod. That song sustained me and in that place with the sunset casting a warm glow on the mountains, I heard it in a new way. I really felt like he was with us. But sometimes I doubt theses signs, you know? Dismiss them. I didn’t find any dimes though, I thought. That’s one that happens pretty frequently when something significant is happening. Sometimes I feel like he’s telling me “pay attention to this moment” when they appear. Surely, this would be an event I should pay attention to, right? But no dimes. At last, we...
children, grief, letting go, memories, parenting, Photograph by Tamara Beachum
When my kids were small I would easily purge toys and ephemera from their rooms with some regularity. A few items that they couldn’t quite release yet would be put in boxes that I would store for them to go through later. Later never really came though and now that they are all grown up they don’t have an interest in those boxes at all. “Give it all away,” my daughter said casually. She didn’t feel the need to look. Now that they are on the other side of childhood it’s harder for me to just load up the boxes for donation. So I’ve been going through them and, even though very few objects are making the cut, it has been an emotionally challenging job. But there was a bright spot that lifted my spirits when I got to the bottom of the most recent box and found this little sweetheart of a snow globe. I can’t recall all of the details around it and my co-rememberer (yes, I made that up), her father, is not here for me to ask. I seem to remember this snow globe was in my daughter’s Easter basket one year. The date on the bottom, 1998, probably means it was her last Easter basket as an only child. Her nickname at the time was “little duck.” When her brother began to talk he gave her a new nickname and there was no going back. Immediately, I knew where this snow globe would live next. A friend’s daughter has Asperger’s Syndrome. Birthdays are hard for her. While she would like to have a...
children, college, grief, letting go, parenting, Photograph by Ken Gehle, Pinterest
My oldest child goes off to college tomorrow. She’s ready. It’s time. I’m ready. It’s right. Then why is this stupid tear crawling down my face?! The shopping is done, the gear organized and after some girl time getting mani/pedi’s this afternoon we will start loading the car. Whoa…it’s getting real now. I spent the morning taking care of some last minute paperwork and making sure any final fees are paid, printing receipts. When my girl was little she would have what her dad and I called, “Teeny-tiny-temper-tantrums.” They were not so teeny really. Well, I just had one when the printer was not forthcoming with my receipts. One should not get so bent out of shape over an empty paper tray. I suspect grief. This next step in her life is a good thing. I know that. But this is also an ending and we’ve had our share of those over the last few years. To be fair, we’ve had new beginnings too, some very good ones. This is one. “Every end is a new beginning.” ~ Proverb I’m also struggling with the idea that this is not happening the way that it “should.” Her dad should be here. He had an absurdly long reach. How are we going to get things into the cabinet above her closet? He won’t be there to capture the events of the day with his camera. I will try but I tend to forget to take pictures when I get caught up in the moment. There is one shot I would make sure to get though, him kissing her head before we...
ALAL on Facebook
ALAL on Pinterest
Tamara on LinkedIn
Follow on Twitter
