I don’t know when the last time was that I experienced so many conflicting emotions at one time. There is excitement. Fear and trepidation. Sadness and jubilant elation all at the same time.
The excitement is because for the first time in eight years I will be in control of my life. Consequently, that is also the source of my fears and trepidation. I am worried that after being immersed for so long in the caregiver role for my parents that I might not be able to make the transition, at 54 years old, from knowing exactly what I was going to do every day to trying to ingratiate myself into a role of being responsible for myself instead of being responsible for someone else.
I will be leaving my childhood home for the last time this coming weekend. It saddens me to do this yet if I don’t I would surely lose my fragile grip on my sanity and sobriety. This is the place where both my parents died in my arms since January. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night after dreaming of my parents and walk through the house calling them because I have confused the realness of the dream with the reality of their deaths.
The elation comes from the same place the sadness comes from. I will be able to fill my lungs again. No matter where I go or how good a time I have when I walk into this house I feel like some one has draped a cloak of lead over me. I can barely breathe or move and yet I don’t want leave but at the same time I am ready to shrug that weight off and stand up straight again.
I also feel in an unexplainable way that I am holding my parents spirits down by being here stagnant. I have a sense that they cannot be truly free of this place until I am. This was their favorite time of year in the mountains. The air is cool and crisp. The trees are turning every shade of gold, harvest to yellow, that the color palate has to offer.
I know that they will be there with me and that makes me smile. I wonder if the hawk…