This past Sunday night, I decided to have a funeral. A full blown, burn the body, funeral. Someone said something to me last week that made me realize that, even though I’ve come so far in these last many months, there is still some letting go for me to do.
It feels like scraping the last little bit of the mayonnaise out of the jar. You know how you have to get a really small spatula, hold your mouth just right and work at it a little bit to get every last drop out? It’s like that.
So I decided the best thing to do was to have a funeral. Call it a Requiem for the Marriage of Walkaway Bob & Erin. I spent the afternoon contemplating the kind of service I wanted to have.
It didn’t seem to merit a “celebration” which is how I usually celebrate deaths & endings so that was out.
Fire of some kind seemed appropriate. So did wine. (I really like wine.)
Honest expression of emotions was very appropriate. So I pulled out a notebook and wrote a letter …
Dear Universe is how it started. (That’s usually how all my letters start.)
I wrote about how I felt in the beginning when we first knew each other and were married. I wrote about the middle when things were a struggle and I didn’t know what to do. I wrote about the end.
I wrote a lot about the end. Imagine that?
I just wrote whatever came to mind. It’s kind of interesting that it really didn’t take that long. When it’s over and you’re ready to let go, I guess it doesn’t take a lot of time.
There was no screaming, yelling or cussing. There was just relief & release. And, a tremendous rocket of desire to move on. I’ll go anywhere as long as it’s forward.
I folded the paper, and placed it carefully between the logs in my outside fire pit. I put several pictures from our life together as well as the one remaining article of clothing that was his in the pit.
I poured a glass of the best wine I had on hand.
I toasted both of us for being who we are, and I honestly thanked him for reminding me of who I am and what my purpose in this lifetime is.
I lit the fire, and watched it burn for a couple of hours.
After the funeral, I even crafted a new story – one that I really like.
“Hello, my name is Erin and, if you really must know, here’s the story of the last few years of my life . I met this guy. I thought he was my forever mate. I thought he loved me. At the end, I thought he had broken my heart. I was wrong. He never had that kind of power. Thank God. The End.“
I know I may slip every now & then and say something derogatory about him or make a snarky remark when I’m trying to be funny. It’s a habit that might take just a little while longer to break. So, cut me some slack please. It was all so real to me, and reclaiming my power has been a fight.
It’s good to remember that we’re all doing the best we can with where we are.