Let It Go

Dear Jean,

I was riding in the car with your son, my husband and happened to look behind the seat and see two of the bags that I had given him on two separate mornings. You know I heat up breakfast for him and give him a bag with a muffin or fruit, and or some sort of snack. You told me to make sure my husband doesn’t go hungry; I also make sure he has something either during the day or on his way home. What are these two bags? I give him a face and ask, “what is this?” He just looks at me.

So, fast forward after we do our errands, I say something eluding to the multitude of uneaten snacks: he says, “let it go”. I smile and think of you. You would tease me or say something and then, when I would mention it again, you would respond with a lighthearted “let it go” and we would chuckle and move on. You are everywhere and no where at the same time. I still do not know how to package this...this...but, I love you and am grateful for all that you are to me. It was his idea that I write letters to you.

Today, I looked at the garden that we told the original homeowners we wanted to keep. That was 3 ½ years ago. Absolutely nothing is planted. We have been talking about planting a garden in the space -it sits and mocks me. Because of the pandemic, the world has been rethinking about food supply. There have been blogs, articles and more cooking shows talking about growing your own food. It makes sense. I talked to Jerry and even put seeds in an online cart. Our conversation yesterday went something like this:

D-you know with the food shortage and what might happen in the future, we really need to plant the garden

J-you don’t even like going outside

D-I know but it will be necessary and we can grow our on food

J-you know after you plant it you have to water and take care of it

D-I can probably take care of watering it

J-you have to build something so the animals do not dig it up and eat it, it will take constant care and making sure it is enclosed properly and you have to be out there, outside, where animals might be also

D-yeah, it is a lot of work and it makes sense to plant and garden

J-let it go, outside, animals and your back hurting

D-so, do we get some more frozen meals, maybe I order meat

J-if I have to I can shoot one of these woodchucks and skin and cook it. Nah, they may have rabies, we have turkeys, I can shoot one of them

D-I am not eating that I will be a vegetarian

J-then we will eat rice and oatmeal, it will be ok. Let it go.

D-ok

The let it go was a gateway into me thinking about you and your influence on my life. I can be intense and serious all the time because I want to do well but, you also taught me to let it go. A delicate balance of relationship management and a focus on the important things in life. There are things you did that were like a master sculpture- patient, planning and pouring your love into your clay. I was the clay and you molded. There were so many instances meant to teach me, guide me to being a good person first and to value education. I remember I asked for an expensive bottle of perfume for my birthday one year, and instead of the full bottle, you presented a sample to me and said you could not afford the larger one. I thanked you and was happy for the gift. After seeing my reaction and my gratefulness, you gave me the full bottle. I still operate from a place of gratefulness.

You corrected my grammar and made sure that I was capable of critical thinking and value-added dialogue. There were endless Easter speeches and speech competitions in school. The summer I sat in your hospital room talking and laughing and focusing on your healing, I received a call to teach Public Speaking at a major university. My name was being spoken in rooms I didn't even know about, it is because you built up character in me and helped me hone my gifts and talents. I still teach.

As the master sculpture, you also were my protector and fail-safe. If I needed money, you sent it. If I overspent, you fussed and you sent money. You told me to “stay out of the stores Dee”, “save your money Dee”, “you and Jerry are in a house, you need to have an emergency fund.” Writing to you, I realize that you are the reason I think about “what if”. It has served me in business to see things that others cannot or will not see and to provide others with solutions based on strategy. It has served me well in our preparation for unexpected house repairs like insulation (our pipes no longer freeze). Because of the “what if” lesson, my teaching check goes into savings, a portion of my full-time check goes into savings and while I haven’t completely stayed out of the stores, I do not overspend. When the electricity went out one cold day after two feet of snow, beautiful white glistening snow (picturesque and problematic) and downed power lines, we were able to purchase a backup generator. I am still saving for the “what if”.

I remember when grandmother was alive she told me about a car accident where a woman hit you and the policeman gave you the ticket; it was your melanin and the era. Your co-worker told me about your job trying to get rid of you and have you sign papers that would have caused you to lose your retirement fund. There was sometimes too much month and too many bills. The things you have had to overcome are remarkable and I know I only know a small fraction of your story. In the midst of all of the obstacles that the world had for you, you still survived. It is amazing to me that you would be able to encourage me through your struggles.

You encouraged me to go out on my own; to explore the world and live my life fully. I never understood your letting me go. You remember I always said “go wit you Jean”. Yet life prevailed and I went away to school, crying, bawling really every time I had to leave you. Throughout the years, we were limited with visits but talked everyday. I enjoyed those 6 or 7 calls that I had with you filled with laughter, wisdom and sometimes, chastisement. I had tales of a broken heart or a failed class and then, a degree with a double minor and a great job. I heard from you over the years “Dee, you can put your mind to whatever you want to do” and always “do better”. It was because of your influence, your pouring into me the stick-to-it-ness and your ability to listen and give sage advice that I was able to, am able to stand before the world as your masterpiece. I am flawed and beautiful and I can do more, it took this letter for me to fully realize it.

As you neared the end of your life, I began to hear other pieces of your story...how you lived fully and loved people and music. I began to understand that you felt you had lived your life and now was my time. I began to understand that as much as I wanted to, I cannot “go wit you Jean”.

You said when I was born you asked God to let you live to be able to raise me and He fulfilled His promise. He has called you home and there is a whole in my heart that will never heal. The grief on some days and nights are unbearable but, I am determined to continue to make you proud. My life’s mantra is to “get people where they need to be”; I rely on what you have taught me and the lessons learned along the way.

Lol. I imagine you singing "Let It Go" from Frozen even though you coined the term long before she sang it. I love you Jean.