Now indulge me in a sober moment.
Please set down your glass.
I can help you write a letter of resignation
To all your fears and sadness.
We have been constant companions for lo these 52 years. Whenever I felt alone, you were there to assure me that I was not. You have always been quick to remind me that you would always be there with me, no matter what. I appreciate your devotion. I honor your consistency. These are qualities I have learned from you. I thank you for that.
It is time for us now to part ways. I know that we may meet again, from time to time, as former schoolmates whose eyes light up at the sight of each other years after graduation. We may embrace and even kiss at times when I am, once again, caught by surprise at the sudden and seeming loss of a loved one. However, I shall not walk with you side-by-side on a daily basis anymore. This is my graduation, and I am ready to face the brave new world with a full and happy heart. For indeed, happiness is my birthright and ecstasy is my Divine state of Being.
The path we walked was twisting, uneven and, at times, treacherous, which is why I appreciated your steadying hand. I gladly received your reassurance that I need do nothing, other than to envelop myself in you. I know that the road that lies ahead of me now is uncertain and may, at times, be treacherous, as well; after all, I did not come to this life to rest in my easy chair and snooze. There will be times when it is challenging for me to feel happy, let alone ecstatic. It may be tempting to seek you out, to invite you to dance, just one more time, for old time's sake. I beg you not to come to my aid when and if I do call out for you.
This is not a condemnation of your being, for I know you have your place and you have served me well. It is as with that former school mate who once tutored me in geometry and whose counsel I no longer require. I hold fond memories of my classmate, as do I hold bittersweet memories of lying on the floor and weeping with you. This is not the mentoring or counsel I now require.
The pit in my abdomen in which I harbored you has been with me for so long that I do wonder how it will feel not to carry you there any longer. They say that nature abhors a vacuum, so it occurs to me, in the same moment as I bid you adieu, to invite in another, rather than leave the occupancy to chance. To say that I will make the leap from sadness to happiness as my constant companion seems too great a chasm to cross. Who, then, shall I invite in? Am I ready for another roommate?
There is a part of me that feels I'm not honoring my mother, my father, my cousin, my lost kitties if I don't feel sad when I think of them. It is tempting to keep your room open for you and you alone. It occurs to me in this moment that there is another favorite companion who may take your place: laughter. Yes, I said it: laughter. You both tend to come to me at the most inappropriate times. You both cause me to clutch at my sides. You both can make tears stream down my face.
I see now that sadness and laughter can walk side by side, so I am sure you two are well acquainted. You may trust, then, that I am well supported, even when we are not together, for Laughter offers services that you cannot. Laughter elevates my mood, making me turn up the corners of my mouth even as tears fall down. It offers me an elevator ride up out of the abyss, sometimes all the way up to happiness.
This, then, is my commitment today: whenever I think of my "lost" beloved, I shall think of something he or she said or did that was funny, hilarious even. Devilishly irreverent, that suits my coyote animal spirit. I'm the one, after all, who must force myself to suppress laughter at a funeral. Why not use laughter when I am holding my own "funeral" for my loved ones? Laughter says, "yes!" and that it is here for me in the same way that you have always been.
I wish you well, my friend. I thank you for your tender care. Be on your way now.
I am ready for a funny story.
Peace and blessings,