I scattered her ashes yesterday, finally. The sun was setting and storm clouds were moving in on the lake. I took the box from the closet and carefully opened it. Inside was a black plastic box, inside that was a clear plastic bag twist tied with a coin stamped with her cremation number. I poured a small bottle of Drambuie over ice, it was the closest thing to Scotch I had, and headed down to the dock. I talked to her like I never could when she was alive. I told her that she really let me down, many times. I told her that I would forgive her, but first I had to say it out loud. I told her I could imagine how hard it was to be a single mom, 25 and hot, with a 5-year-old.
"I felt your resentment and I tried so hard to be good and not bother you too much. I knew how much you hated having to ask your mother to watch me because she disapproved of your divorce and made no attempt to hide it. What were you thinking getting me my own apartment at 16 because your rich boyfriend didn't like kids?" There was more, but that's private for now. I cried and opened the bag. Afterward I toasted her, took a sip and poured the drink into the water. She loved her Scotch.
A long time coming, but I finally sold the house. I feel a bit traumatized by the whole experience. It's not something I want to go through again any time soon. Lots of memories, good and bad -- it was her house. She died way too young from cancer in that house. I took care of her in that house, even when she could barely look at me because she didn't want me there. I kept hoping for a breakthrough, an epiphany, a healing. It didn't happen.
After she died I had lots of roommates, and I wasn't good at screening them. It was a great party house, big open floor plan, covered patio, pool, hot tub and a breathtaking view of Lake Wellington, due west so amazing sunsets. It was the only place my mom was truly happy. She loved the tropics. We had a lot of good times there, dinner parties, birthdays, poker nights, a wedding shower, a wake and lots of mixers. But it was too much house for me. Plus, it was my mom's dream, not mine. The maintenance, taxes and insurance were crazy expensive and I was stressed out most of the last three years.
There were some shady aspects to the sale by both the buyer and my realtor. I've decided to stop telling the story and giving it life and let it go. I realized I've been putting a lot of energy into the retelling, wringing my hands and gnashing my teeth. Fact is the house is no longer mine and it's not my responsibility anymore. End of story. I didn't really know the weight of it until it was gone... phew and sheesh.
Along with the house I sold or gave away all the furniture and most of my belongings. I still have a lot to purge, but I'm making headway. From a five-bedroom house I'm down to 15 bins or boxes and my clothes. Watch out if you head down this path... getting rid of stuff is addicting! It feels so liberating and changes everything.
I turned 55 on April 5, 2015... which also happened to be Easter and the second day of Passover. I had been anticipating the rebirth, renewal, relief... but all I felt was numb. I decided to get quiet and see what came up. I had been living in lack for so long that I forgot how to feel free, open, joyful. It took awhile to get back in touch with my authentic self, she's still in here, but hasn't been running the ship. With the real me back at the helm I booked a writing retreat for September in Carmel and planned a month long road trip to California.
When I hit the road at the end of August I knew I had a place to stay through October, house sitting for a neighbor in Florida. I chose, on purpose, to leave it up in the air, to set an intention and request the best possible outcome for my life. I stopped in Colorado to see a girlfriend I hadn't seen in years, it was like no time had passed -- don't you just love those friendships? Driving through the Sierras was magic, seeing Lake Tahoe again energized me and filled me up. San Francisco for Sunday brunch, Thai food in Berkeley and a surprise overnight with friends the night before the retreat started.
I grew up in the Monterey Bay Area, so driving in to Carmel for the retreat was familiar, but different. I had held a lot of negative energy and resentment, my own and my mom's, toward this lovely place. In this quest to get my joy back I looked upon the trees, mountains, beaches and Pacific Ocean with new eyes. I declared out loud that this place was much too beautiful to hate! I vowed to heal the bad juju and embrace my roots. I drove down Highway 1 toward Big Sur, found the address and drove up the serpentine, narrow driveway in the Carmel Highlands. Holy sh*t! The house was all wood and windows nestled in the trees with a view of the ocean to knock your socks off.
I climbed the slate steps and was greeted by Merry, a soulful little white poodle, and her mom Linda our host. We hugged and I felt welcome and excited for the adventure. While sitting on a little brick wall with our bare feet in the dirt waiting for the others to arrive I looked up and noticed a dragonfly struggling in a spider web. I have dragonflies around me all the time, like little messengers visiting me, they make me smile. We jumped up, ran up the steps and opened the window nearest the action. I grabbed a back scratcher and (sorry spider) freed the creature, ruining the web. Linda and I looked at each other like, "What the hell just happened?" and laughed. It felt like a good omen. The other women arrived, we all hugged (lots of hugging here!), toured the house and picked our sleeping arrangements. We drove into enchanting downtown Carmel-by-the-Sea for dinner.
I have never been on a retreat before. I also have not shared my writing much, joined a writing group or taken classes. I have, in order to survive, built up a wall and held people at arms length. Another coping mechanism of victims. I shunned and loathed the victim mentality, the needy blaming your parents BS I associated with weak people. I chose the martyr instead. "I'm fine, I don't need anyone. I'm just better alone." Although they respect my independence, those who know me would be surprised at this because I am quite social and seem to have it all together. The love and support, vulnerability and sharing at that dinner table was unexpected. Tears flowed and bonds were made in an instant.
The women I met and really saw at this retreat are my soul sisters. We will be friends forever, in a way that transcends my other friendships. That is not meant to lessen the importance and love in those friendships, it's just different. We shared a life changing experience, I liken it to veterans in the same unit. We dug deep, opened out hearts and lifted each other up. It was singularly the very best thing I've ever done for myself.
After our week in Carmel came to a close, more hugs (!), exchanging of info and well wishes, I headed to nearby Pacific Grove to see my aunt Susie. She's only four years older than me and we grew up more like sisters. She has forever invited me to Thanksgiving and Christmas, hoping to make me feel part of the family. My mom's mother was her mother. Different dad and 16 years apart. There's an ancestral, generational thread of "unmothering" in our family. I broke the cycle by not having kids. Susie broke it by having kids and doing it exceptionally well. When I arrived at her house she had prepared a room for me that was so welcoming it made me catch my breath. The bedspread and pillows were yellow, my favorite color, and the windows were sparkly... it was lovely and inviting. It was clear she had gone to great lengths to make it just right. I told her "I feel so at home, so welcome." She said "Cin, you've always been welcome here." I just wasn't ready to receive it until now. <
So here I am, unencumbered, open to collecting experiences rather than things and getting back on the road in November from Florida to California, to freedom, to shedding my armor and opening my heart, which is clenched like a fist, in that safe place which is family. So the rebirth, renewal and relief that I was hoping for, anticipating, is happening... once again as it should rather than when I expect it to. Trust is another thing I'm working on, it's a work in progress.
Cindy Allen