Letting Go...for Good.

Yesterday I went to pick up my son in the little town I lived in with my first husband.
We stopped by my old house. My X had cleared out the attic, and 'there were things' of mine that he 'found.'...and I was 'welcome to look through them'. (Gee, thanks!)
When my son and I pulled in to the driveway...and I got that old, familiar, nerve wracking, nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
My old house...built in 1928.
MY house. The house that had seen my newborn babies come home, gave us shelter....watched them grow.The house I had lovingly landscaped for 7 years, helped renovate, designed and installed my kitchen and checker board tile floor...My kitchen, where I had cooked many a home made meal from scratch. The trees I had planted in the yard were now 20 feet tall. My precious gardens were overgrown from neglect...another casualty of divorce.
This house had seen much happiness, but more sorrow.
I was startled by it's emptiness when I walked through the door for the first time in 8 years.It was cold...musty. Left behind. My house had always been warm, smelled good, and seemed so big to me when I lived there with my kids. My son, who was standing next to me, was not 3 years old anymore---and almost as tall as I am now.
Maybe that was it. We had all 'grown'.
I got to task with looking through boxes....dusty, broken down boxes...with my handwriting on them...'JB Baby Clothes: 6-12 months'...'C's special dresses Newborn-6 months'...stuffed animals...toys..things I wanted my kids to have for their kids.

I am a 'saver'...some say 'pack rat'...I prefer 'family historian'.

Looking through the boxes and bags was like a time warp. My sons train set he got for Christmas when he was 3.(I can still see him clearly with his red flannel robe and footy pajamas,little boy 'just out of bed' hair, making train noises.) My daughters ragged out, and dearly loved, dolls in various states of 'undress'(Why do barbies always end up half naked with only one shoe?)...her little dresses, and baby sleepers.Books I read to them in the rocking chair before they went to sleep in my arms...I could still smell the baby shampoo on their clean, warm,little heads. It was overwhelming.
I was both sad and happy remembering.
I have one of those weird brains that remembers everything---usually trivial things to an outsider. Each saved stuffed animal, book, or piece of clothing had a special memory to me. A story.My son seemed to take comfort in my memories of the good times.
Eventually, he and I carried the boxes down the 28 stairs to the driveway---(I know it is 28 steps because my mom would remind me every time she visited.)
We walked through the house one more time before leaving. I said my 'goodbyes' to the house out loud. I hope she was listening.I thanked her for being good to me and my kids.
My home was alive when I lived there...with laughter, noise, and kids...not to mention 3 cats and a dog. This house was not my home anymore...and not my kids home. It was still, quiet...asleep.
A new family has bought my old house.They will be only the fourth family to live there in 81 years...81 years! I hope they will bring her back to life.
So,yesterday,finally, I let go of my house for good. No more 'what if's'....no more regrets, or wishing things had gone differently.
Letting go, for 'good'...for better...moving forward. It felt ok...closure.
Some times it is good to let go...I am a slow learner...and I will always have the stories to share with my kids---and their kids.That cannot be taken away, or lost.
I am learning to make room for 'the here', and 'the now'...and the future.
No more dark sadness.
Just light...and love.