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This is a Strange Post to Write!

This is kind of a strange blog post to write, I will confess it from word one. I realized I needed to let go of something. Something really simple and small. But as I started to do it, it really caught me off guard. In fact, I cried at the thought of it. And could not understand why. But as I thought about it I realized, I needed to be letting go again, and I didn’t want to.

Letting Go Again

My Father has been gone for a long time. Really long. He passed away 20 years ago this April. At the time, we dealt with all the regular things that you go through when someone you love dies. And in total truthfulness, I thought that I was completely healthy about losing my Dad. Until, I started decluttering my house again. And then, a piece of my Dad, really a very peripheral piece stared at me in the face. At that point, I realized that I needed to be letting go again, and deal with the death of my Dad, one last time.

I have been working little by little…

I have been working through my house little by little and doing a much more aggressive decluttering than I have in the past. Yes, I have been influenced by Mari Kondo, and I love watching her show. I love the concept of only keeping things around that bring my home joy. It is interesting through this process how many items I have found that not only don’t bring me joy but are kind of like long unhealthy strings to the past. Mostly these are items that I feel I must keep, or someone will be unhappy that I let them go. I have had to let go of a lot of them during this decluttering, and although it might cause a momentary stress, I feel better with my shelves being clean, cupboards well organized, and not having to carry so much into the future.

I wrote last year about Cleaning Out My Closet. As I have said, I do this very regularly. I like my spaces to be clutter free, and functional. So, as I was looking into my closet I went about a seasonal cleaning. I pulled a few items out, sat back on my bed and looked at my work. And then as I stared into my closet, I realized that there is a random artifact of my life that really has no reason to be in my closet. It belonged to my Dad. He did not bequeath it to me. In fact, it was in his closet when he died and for some reason, I put it in mine, and there it has stayed. For 20 years. And I don’t want to throw it away. And I stopped decluttering for the moment. Really, for a week, until I decided to circle back and face it.

So What Exactly Is it?

So, what was it you ask? A large box  with a bottle of classic Scotch Whiskey inside. I looked and it is specifically Johnny Walker Black Label Special Whiskey. I am sure to someone who drinks whiskey that means something. And probably, someone in the world will read this and question why I would throw it away. The funny thing is that I don’t drink. And really, my Dad didn’t drink. Growing up we did not have alcohol in our home unless my Mom was trying a recipe that included cooking sherry, or occasionally she would make stew with red wine. But other than that, it just was not a thing in our home. So, how did the bottle of Scotch get into our home?

Letting Go Again

My Dad often traveled all over the world for work. And I was really proud of the work that he did.  He told me at one point that it was a custom that most of the men carried flasks with some form of alcohol and they would share a swig after a meeting every now and then. So, at some point, on one of his work trips, someone gave my Dad this bottle of Scotch Whiskey as a gift. He brought it home, put it in his closet about 30 years ago, and there it sat for 10 years. Unopened. Until it moved to my closet and sat there for the last 20 years.

Truthfully, I don’t want to let go again

So, why when it really didn’t mean anything to my Dad, and I don’t drink Scotch is it so hard for me to let go of? When I soul searched, I realized that by letting go of the bottle of Scotch, I would be letting go of my Dad, again. And truthfully, I don’t want to. I still miss him sometimes. Do you know what I mean? For instance, when my kids do something cool, and I want him to know. Or as my granddaughter continues to grow, and explore, and learn, and share, I want him to know her. Or truthfully, when I do something big, I want him here to congratulate me. For instance, today I passed an accounting final. It was really hard, and he would be proud of me. I miss him.

There are other times I miss him too. For instance, he had an amazing sense of humor, and loved to laugh. He also loved funny tricks. Like the time he went into his office, which was a pretty serious place, with a dinosaur tie on. Or, when he would walk out in the morning pretending to be ready for work but would have shaved half his mustache and beard off. That kind of thing cracks me up. I miss his laugh, I miss his sense of humor, and I miss him.

It’t been 20 years!

As I am writing this post, I am really having a difficult time. And tears are starting to roll. But that is okay. There are different stages to grief. I know that I walked through grief 20 years ago. But now I am making the choice, to walk through it again, but in a different way, at a different stage of my life.

Years ago, when my Dad first died, we knew in advance that it was likely. He had a surgery planned, and the Dr. said that there was a possibility that he would die. My Dad said that he was willing to take the risk. Either he would wake up from the surgery and his life would be better, or he would wake up with Jesus. Either way, he would miss us, but he was willing to take the risk.

He did not wake up from surgery

He did not wake up from surgery, My Mom phoned to let us know. I took my kids home from work and started cleaning the house as if nothing had happened. I was in the denial stage. For about a day I really could not eat, I kept doing random tasks, and didn’t allow myself to think about it.

I honestly don’t remember going through Anger or Bargaining. I have in other losses, but my Dad had lived with physical illness for over 30 years. He had been through a lot, and I felt good that he was now out of pain. I remember cooking and baking for his memorial service. And I had been holding it together most of the week, and then a small occurrence made me fall into tears. I was making a bunch of bundt cakes. Seriously a bunch of bundt cakes. I am not sure why I thought we would need so many. But, when I had finished mixing the first cake, and poured it into the pan, I broke down. Somewhere between putting the cake in the oven, and putting the bowl in the sink I realized, my Dad was not there to lick the bowl.

Letting Go Again

And then I cried…

If you have been reading my blog for long, you know I enjoy dough and batter more than I enjoy baked goods. My Dad loved cake batter. Every time I made a cake, he would lick the beaters, or get a spoon and eat the batter from the bowl. This time, my Dad was not there. And he would never be there to lick the bowl again. I spent a good amount of time on my bed crying that afternoon. And then I was okay. I moved forward, did what needed to be done, supported my Mom as she walked through grief, until I cleaned out my closet this week.

So what did I decide to do? First, I let myself have a good cry. I told my family. Some looked at me as if I were a bit crazy, others, could see why it was hard to let go of another piece of my Dad, regardless of how silly. And then we sat and reminisced a lot. We talked about the things we loved about my Dad. Took some time to remember. To laugh, to cry, to remember. And then I let it go. It’s not there anymore. It never will be again, but my Dad will always be. He will always be in the ever changing inquisitive mind of my Sister Mary. He will forever be in the language skills and quiet voice of my Brother Paul. And he will forever be in my even toned decision making and drive to take care of my family. And of course, he will be alive in some sense in our children and children’s children. So, although I am letting go and saying goodbye again, I am reminded it is not a finite goodbye.

Ann Landers Quote

And now to say goodbye again

Now that I have said goodbye again, let go of the random artifact of my Dad’s life, I am able to start decluttering again. I don’t think that before this occurrence I had ever realized how one rather silly thing, can stop you from reaching your goals. In this case, I was thrown off the course to declutter and have my home be a more organized space, because I struggled with getting rid of something that mattered, and at the same time did not matter. Why do I share this story? First, because I wanted it as a reminder to myself to let go of things that don’t matter, and keep things that do. Example? The memories of my Dad really matter and should be shared, talked about, and held. A random bottle of Scotch does not matter and should be discarded to make room for other memories.

So, have you ever had to say goodbye again? Or goodbye for the first time? As I mentioned, it was the batter bowl, and the old Bottle of unused Scotch that brought me to tears. What made you realize you were saying goodbye? Share in the comments below.

If you would like to read more about my Dad, you can read about him here.

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