“Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.” ~ Rumi
We were just on the phone with my uncle to plan a camping trip for the summer. We chatted about the college process, catching him up with the latest news and updates. We still don’t know very much (man, they make you wait) but we told him what we did know. He talked about his experience with his kids. It’s so different now, but was still quite the ordeal back then.
When his youngest, my cousin and his only daughter, was making big college decisions, he wrote her poem. How he has it handy, I don’t know but he read it to The Dude and I over the phone tonight.
It gutted me. He finished reading it and I had to walk out of the room.
I hate talking about this without being able to share the poem, but it’s not mine to share.
During a phone call to plan camping trips, I wasn’t expecting to be completely ruined by a poem. It came out of nowhere and punched me in all of the feels.
I keep thinking that I’m doing better with all of this. I actually have excited and happy thoughts about her college experience and decisions. I’m fine! All is well! Until I go to a basketball game on senior night and realize that I’ll have to go to my own senior’s night in a few months for softball. Or my uncle reading a poem about kids leaving home and I’m completely and totally destroyed. I don’t want to be an annoying person who can’t move past things. I expect eye-rolling and “holy crap get over yourself” and don’t worry, I’m totally saying those things to myself, too.
But every once in awhile, the punches to the gut knock the wind out of me.
I’ll be back to normal tomorrow. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a break from poetry for awhile.