In recent days, the past has appeared in unexpected ways. Last week I walked across the street to converse with my neighbor. While talking to her, my gaze moved back and forth to our house. My neighbor noticed our door open, the slither of my slice of life peeking outside. She asked, “Who is opening your door?” I said, “Oh probably my mom or my dad are just wondering where I am.” In reality it was my daughter who stood behind the door, unseen, wondering where her mom was taking refuge. My neighbor was familiar with my grief and patted me on the back, taking notice of my fumble and with a pensive face said, “You must be missing your Dad or thinking about him.”
To be honest, referring to my father in the present jolted me. In the past two years, I’ve never confused memory with reality. So when I fumble this way, I like to stop and think about the message that the universe maybe offering me.
I sense that it might have something to do with my Mom’s decision to sell her home that she shared with my father and where they both raised my sister and me. We never moved from that space. I spent over twenty years in my childhood home. There were many birthday celebrations, nights where we played Carrom, and watched Cowboy games while eating Subway sandwiches. It was the first place my husband met my parents and where my grandparents from India stayed when they visited us. There was happiness and sadness and all of the in-betweens that lived in those walls. It’s the place where my father laughed and loved and cried for most of his life. And where he took his last breath. Selling “the” house means many literal and metaphorical doors will close.
Maybe my fumble means that my father is sending me a signal or a sign. That by selling the house we aren’t abandoning him. That he is standing at the foot of my doorway in Arizona, saying, he understands why some conversations with the past must end.
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Do you believe in signs and signals? Is it difficult to let go of sentimental items from the past? How do you reconcile moving on with the past when it is so much of who you are?
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Maybe all those we love are in our doorways, wherever they may be. That comforts me as a family home, the place of most of my memories with my grandparents is being sold. Thank you.
Kate: The same thought comforts me. The idea that our loved ones are standing at the various doorways of our lives. Thanks for stopping by.
I’m not a hoarder but I hold onto many, many momentos – unable to let them go. And I absolutely believe in signs. They bring me comfort. And, if they aren’t really signs at all – if I’m just imagining the sign, where is the harm? Pink roses and butterflies and cardinals will always remind me of my grandmothers. Whenever I see them, I always feel a little hug from my grandmothers. A gentle, happy reminder of the impact they had on my life. (Hugs to you, dear blogging friend.)
Oh Jane. The image of the pink roses and butterflies is such a great way to remember your grandmothers. For me, anytime I am around pens and paper and any office supplies, I think of my Dad. Thanks for the hug Jane…
Rudri,
Yesterday you were on my mind. I was missing my dad and I was having a hard time and I didn’t share it with anyone . Then I thought of you and I wanted to share it with you but I didn’t want to make you sad. This post brought it home for me. I think that they are watching over us. My thoughts are with you.xoxo.
Sorry for my delayed response Ayala. I appreciate your sentiment. I believe that they are guiding us in ways we can and cannot appreciate. That feeling of missing them… it never goes away. Sending xoxo and hugs your way my friend.
Lovely post! Your dad will always be with you.
This gave me chills. I definitely think your Dad is with you.
I hope so Tiffany. So much.
Change is hard, and some spaces are not meant to be filled. Hugs to you, Rudri.
The change is something that is overwhelming at times, but I’ve learned to accept certain feelings without trying to fight it. I think it will move me toward acceptance. Thanks for the hug my friend.
I usually hold onto a sentimental thing for days and months and years and then, one day, suddenly and subconsciously, I decide that it’s okay to part with it, that I will be all right without it, that my story will be all right. Maybe that’s how your mom felt. I hope so, and I hope you’re able to find the same kind of peace about her decision. How very tough, my friend.
My mom is at peace with her decision. In fact, she says to me, “What’s the point in holding on?” I understand what she is saying, but its taking me longer to realize this. It’s tough, but I know its necessary. It is time that some other family makes new memories in our childhood home.
Wow, a lovely post, Rudri. I do believe our past can converse with us especially when we are willing to listen.
Yes. That is so true. I think I’m open to embracing my father’s presence. Maybe that means time is helping me heal too.
I remember when my father and step-mother sold the home we grew up in. I had always thought I would buy it, and then when it came time it just wasn’t the right fit. But as we worked to clean that out, and I recovered the memories that had stayed protected in that house, I really struggled.
I’ve been noticing a lot about how the universe speaks to us recently, it’s quite a powerful thing. And I’m quite moved by how you took the time to really reflect on it yourself.
These messages and whispers that the universe sends are powerful. I’ve found that as I age I am more open and willing to listen.
We lost our home due to circumstances beyond our control and I never had closure – in fact things from my childhood are beyond my reach now. I don’t even have photos from my past and it’s a little unsettling to not even be able to say goodbye to what was once so much a part of you.
I know it’s not going to be easy to close that chapter of your life, Rudri, but being able to reflect on it and even saying goodbye to that part of your past may give you the time you need to make peace with what has to happen in the future.
I’m also a believer in signs as well as superstitions. Must be the way I was raised…
Oh Justine. I didn’t realize that you lost so much. I am so sorry.
I feel grateful that I have the chance to say goodbye. And perhaps move closer toward a place of peace.
I recently wrote a post about a visit I had from my Uncle who recently passed. Tied into it was reference to my mother who died in 2002. Both of their deaths have forever made their mark on me but I do believe in signs. My most recent sign has provided me with such comfort. I’m glad I waited.
I’m glad you were able to take comfort in your sign. I think we all receive these individual messages, but need to be willing to listen to them. I am so sorry for your losses. Sending hugs your way.