Letting go.

Letting go.

I’ve worn the jeans until they’re stiff, my underwear stinks, and the tee shirt I have on has stains so broad that whatever the original color was is long since forgotten. And yet I hang on.
There may be a drawer filled with clean garb, even new clothes, but I can’t bring myself to change. I can’t let go. It’s comfort, familiarity, and it’s love.
Even when the time has come; I know it, you know it. I can’t let go. Letting go, changing clothes is a huge step. It requires courage, it requires love. It requires knowing at some level that this change is right and from it new things will flow. Even if the internal transition, the letting go, doesn’t come right away, the external look changes. And from this change the perception of those around me may change. I can, if I choose, allow the external to alter the internal conflict within me.

The gap.

I closed a chapter when I let my dear friend and companion go. He’d lost his fight. He could not run, he could not move. My head told me what needed to be done, and my heart resisted. I was not, I am not, I can never be ready to give him up. So much of my time, my life and the lives of my family have accommodated and been well touched by his love, warmth and spirit. And now he is gone.

We change.

My life has been changed by this loss. I’ve put on the new clothes. They look OK, but don’t feel just right, just yet. Those around me see the difference and tell me it is all for the good. But I don’t feel it. Maybe I will in time.
Tomorrow we all await great change, with great hope and tremendous anticipation and vast expectations. Here there is no doubt that we have made the right choice and that this change is a blessing after a long nightmare. Yet we await fortune to see if the new clothes fit right. If they are suited for the task, durable and ready to wear.