Letting go gives way for new opportunity
I often question the timing the universe gives us. It’s only a select amount; something we run out of without realizing. Time has had an interesting way of becoming the one thing I know is certain about life here on Earth, and the one thing I resent most. I cannot help but feel like I have been irresponsible with the time I’ve been given, but I think it’s impossible to measure how much we have taken for granted each day until the sun sets, and everything slowly becomes a memory. Lately, time has had me questioning the role I have played in other people’s lives. But more than that, time has me questioning the purpose in letting those people go.
In November this past year, my dad had a stroke while on his way to work one morning. I remember seeing him in the ICU three days later, blind, numb on the right side of his body and unable to speak in coherent sentences. But most of all, I remember my mom telling me to be prepared to let him go. This was the first time I sat down and realized that even the concept of letting someone go, letting someone out of my life, not being able to hear them, not being able to be in their presence anymore was an experience I would not wish on anyone. I had to let go of a lot while my father was recovering in the hospital. And I realized looking at him that he had to let go more than me, and it was worth giving up some things in order for him to adapt and heal. I had to let go of my judgement towards him, my grudges from any argument or fight we’ve ever had. I had to let go of the long walks we had during sunsets and the long nights where we would talk about our days. I had to let go of pieces of my independence, taking on larger responsibilities in a lot of ways I didn’t feel ready for.
I don’t think letting things go has to be a sacrifice. But, I do think when someone has lived their whole life revolving around themselves, it’s a big shift taking care of someone else. In order to support my dad, I had to learn to be more selfless, and in that, I learned to let go of an old part of myself that I was still holding onto.
My relationship with my extended family has always been complicated. My grandfather was an artist, starting his own business at a young age, specializing in fitness and health posters. When he was diagnosed with cancer, he lost not only the majority of basic functioning in his body, but he lost the creative and experimental side of himself. When someone has made it their life’s purpose to be an artist in any capacity, I believe losing that ability is true heartbreak and the ultimate form of letting go. That was harder for him than it was for me, and I knew that but I don’t think he knew I did. I had to let go of the conversations we used to have about art and music. I let go of the times where I would watch him spend hours working on sketches of Biblical imagery as we talked about my life and how things were at home. As he continued through chemo treatments and surgeries, his memory slowly left with him. I remember the last time I went to visit them; when I knocked on his door, he didn’t recognize me, and in so many ways I didn’t recognize him. Letting go in this case doesn’t happen all at once. It happens in fragments where I watched him leave before my eyes, and that was a heavier feeling than anything else. But through that I also learned that letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It meant loving him without needing him to be the same. It means holding onto the person he was, while still showing up for who he is now. It was about accepting that memory is fragile, but connection is not.
Something I’ve learned most about letting people go is that it’s not always about saying goodbye, but about surrendering what was once normal to move into a new reality. Letting go became more of a selfless act than I had once thought. I remember feeling selfish for letting people go, as they are their own person, I don’t control when or how they leave me. But there are different forms of letting people in our lives go, and it’s not always revolved around a large medical scare or loss of tradition.
I’ve met a lot of impactful people this past year, and I met them through circumstances I would have never put myself under if I hadn’t let my old self go. This is where time started to sink in fast. I met someone this year who’s been there for me in a way I’ve never experienced before, and her graduation didn’t truly hit me until I saw her hang up her cap and gown on her bedroom door late one afternoon last month. I didn’t think a person could come into your life so quickly and could mean so much, but that is the beautiful thing about the human connection and what time can build. It’s a scary thought that she’s leaving for the Marines this summer, and it’s a weird feeling having to let someone go after finally understanding them. But these are things I’m okay with giving up in order to support the people I love. Some of my closest friends are seniors this year, and it’s been an honor to grow and learn with each of them. It’s not a loss if they’re still present in my memory, and that’s one thing I will forever be thankful that time has given me, the presence of her and every other senior that I’ve grown a connection with this year has fundamentally set me up for the next to come, and for that, I am proud to let them go.
It’s true that all good things come to an end. And maybe that’s the hardest part about letting people we love go.
