Baggage: What to Take, What to Leave Behind

“You can't fly if your wings are holding the baggage of yesterday. Let go. Fly.” ― Steve Maraboli

My bag is packed. Seeing it sitting there ready to go reminds me of how much you loved to travel. I think of you moving far away from home after you were married, an experience we shared, and how many new destinations you added to your adventure of a life. I'm pretty sure you never looked back. I'm afraid to fly, Mama. It makes me very uncomfortable putting my life in the hands of a stranger, although tomorrow I promise I will get on that plane fearlessly! I was nervous when you took me on my first cruise, too--all that ocean around and under me, full of unknown things. You said to me, "Sweetheart, it's okay to be afraid of things that are new. Lots of people are. Just don't let your fears get in the way. Use them to be mindful, but not to stop you." We had that conversation many times over the years about a variety of topics, i.e. marriage, love, parenting, military life, going to college, etc. You and I would play the, "What's the worst thing that could happen" game, and almost always came to the conclusion that even if the worst did, in fact, happen, all would not be lost. It was a great strategy and I have conquered many of my fears using it.

This is our final trip together. I thought I was ready for it, but I'm not. I don't know how to say goodbye. Your ashes have been here with me, sitting on the piano and I didn't realize how much comfort I felt just having them close. Tomorrow, they will be tucked safely inside Brad's "Go-Bag", while we make our way to your childhood home. I wish we'd made this trip when you were alive and could show me new things in a place I've never been, show them to me through your eyes, so that they could stick in my heart the way they lived in yours. I wish I'd recorded your childhood stories, so I could hear you tell them over and over again, like the one about when you and your friends would put bathing suits on and lay out to tan on top of the pig shed in the summertime. That one still makes me smile, and I can clearly picture teen-you with your girlfriends up there scandalizing the hogs by giving them quite a show. The opportunity to do those things with you, however, has passed. It makes me even more grateful that we took advantage of many other chances to do fun things together and share our stories, weaving them together into a bond between us that will last the rest of my life. I will hold tight to the things we got to do, like a child clinging to a security blanket, and let go of the "shoulda, coulda, woulda" baggage, leaving it behind on some fluffy cloud over southern skies.

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Mom & Dad's First Cruise--July 1972