Slowly, I'm Letting Go

I was talking to a friend last week about my jam-packed schedule and how exhausted I've been feeling this summer. As I ticked off the things that filled my month and barred me from a full day off she asked, “why did you schedule so much in July then?” Nothing like the frankness of a Canadian to get you thinking.

As I pondered my propensity for all or nothing (it has been all of late), it also occurred to me that my physical health is not optimum right now either. For a week I've had a dull ache in my belly, my neck is all jacked up, and I've been discreetly picking my cuticles. This morning, as the the light bled through the window covering, I got still and listened...what I found was fear. I think my overscheduling has been an avoidance tactic and this uneasy feeling is directly tied to fear for my child's safety. I have this notion, unconscious until now, that if I keep Jayne under our roof she will be safe. The reality is she is eighteen and going to college, and I have to let go now. I know this is a rite of passage that all parents must go through, I just wish I had a few more years with her at home. Pete and I have done our best to guide her fairly, honestly, and lovingly, and our hope is that she will allow these principles to guide her as she heads off to college. Now we must find our faith.

We are stewards of our children. It's our job to love them, teach them right from wrong, show them how to commune with the world around them, and then send them out into that world to flourish. To paraphrase Hermann Hesse, some think holding on makes you strong; but sometimes it is letting go. I'm getting closer to letting go.

Our Small, Everyday Interactions Matter

This is a picture of Pete's grandparents, Lucrezia(Louise) and Joseph Aniello. Grandma was born here in America in 1917 to Italian immigrants and Grandpa came to America from Italy when he was thirteen. I'm not sure why, but I find their history something to be proud of. Perhaps because my own people have little idea as to their roots. Grandma died yesterday in hospice care at the age of 96. Here is how I came to be an Aniello and how they accepted a very young and unpolished girl into their family and, unbeknownst to them, how important their everyday interactions with me through the years have been.

I met Pete in college at nineteen and we married a year later. In my family of origin I was considered an old maid by some, the fact that I went to college and wasn't pregnant put me ahead of the game in their eyes. I was well aware that the way things worked in my family wasn't the way things worked in all families. My best friend and maid of honor voiced her concerns at my age and the gravity of what I was taking on; bottom line, I watched my family and followed their lead. I didn't realize until much later that I was carrying this underlying sense of embarrassment around about being so young and married. When I met Pete's family I knew there must be some reservations about the viability of our relationship, but no one ever voiced them. I remember my first visit to Florida and my first big Italian meal at Grandma and Grandpa Aniello's. I was trying to make myself useful and was in the kitchen with Grandma helping with all the details for the gathering that was taking place. I specifically remember a conversation with Grandma about my unease at being so young and married, or something along those lines, and Grandma said, “Stop worrying about it, you make Peter happy” and then sent me into the dining room with a task to look after. She never mentioned this converstation again. This family has shown me a way of being that I had not seen before and, with Grandma's passing, I feel overwhemed by a sense of appreciation at knowing her. Grandma and Grandpa showed me unconditional acceptance and I had no idea how much this meant to me until now. I am often sad about my own family of origin, most of them do not embrace my awesomeness, yet, with this loss the reality is I do have a family that appreciates me...I just married into it.

We got to visit Grandma six weeks ago while we were in Florida. Sixteen of us crowded into her hospice apartment, most of us knowing it would be the last time we saw her, yet my heart was light with love. As I looked around her room it struck me how rich her life had been. I only hope that I am surrounded by the abundance of love and laughter when I grow old as Grandma was. In her room the walls were decorated with pictures from her childhood, her wedding day with Grandpa, the Saints from her beloved Catholicism, and pictures of various grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We took turns talking to Grandma when Ann (Pete's mother) said, “ Look around this room Mom. The priest said to go out and multiply and you sure did.” Even at 96 Grandma's personality shone through and her response was classic Grandma, “We only had two kids, this is on you people” and she rolled her eyes. I think Grandma would like the fact that when I think of her I will think of this interaction and smile.