The moment that Mom called to tell me that Dad had died was the most clear-headed moment of my life. My breathing slowed. My thoughts slowed. A shroud that I didn’t even know I’d been looking through was instantly lifted. And for about 3 or 4 hours, I saw everything. I felt everything. I understood everything.
And what I understood was that everything that I thought mattered…didn’t.
Lately, I’ve lost that clarity. The shroud has returned. Nowadays, that shroud is made of concern about my family, my music, and money. In the past month, with all of my time and resources being tied up at my building, I’ve had to sell two of my very favorite things: my keyboard and my wedding dress.
At first, I was a little crushed. Those items both have a lot of sentimental value to me. But then I got to thinking about how little those things mattered when I had my 3 or 4 hours of clear-headedness. And I realized, not only are those things just things, but that they’ll do a lot more good on this planet being used by somebody than sitting in my closet.
And besides, I have the memories.
John Lennon famously wrote “imagine no possessions.” And while it’s hard to conceptualize, I’m at least beginning to make peace with not having many things. I’m a wealthy woman in lots of ways, Reader, one of them being you continuing to check in on my blog every week.
I’m off to mail my wedding dress to some lucky lady who will give it a second walk down an aisle. (Have a great time, Jennifer!). And have a great week, Reader. See you next Sunday. -Em