"Say what you have to say, and not what you ought."
~ Henry David Thoreau

Monday, October 15, 2012

Letting Go

More changes and letting go of pieces of my past this week, and I find myself resisting, wanting to hold on, unwilling to face yet farewell. As you can read about in this blog post, my mom and stepdad are moving from their home in Pueblo, Colorado where they’ve lived for the past 17 years.
Our family made memories at 3 Oakbridge Drive, many of them, and I love revisiting the place so many happy moments were shared whenever I returned for a visit. Now, it will be added to the list of places I can return to only in my memories, opening the doors in my mind, mentally visiting each room, recalling all the life that happened there.
However hard it is, these words by one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver, remind me it’s time to move on, to let go.
In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails are bursting
and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

Below are some pictures of some of my favorite times at 3 Oakbridge Drive.

Gillian and Mason making pancakes

Trampoline Time with Uncle Jon

Easter Morning 2009

Saying goodbye to mom on a snowy Easter Day - 2009

LiteBrite and morning scare hair - Easter 2007

Me with Hannah and Gillian - 2003

Easter Egg Hunt

Cousins crashed out in Grandma's living room
Silly sisters in mom's backyard


  1. I can barely see to post my comment because of the tears. I bought this house to be a grandma house. I always imagined it filled with kids and laughter. Your brought Gillian here right after she was born and you and Amy showed each other your first born children with such pride. I have the photo of you side by side on the couch with the babies. You are looking at your Gillian with such love. She is looking at her Mason with such love. I laughed when I saw the photo because neither of you is looking at the other's baby.

    I see me altering your bridesmaid dress for Amy's wedding. I remember you all hiding her dress in the basement just before the wedding itself. I see us all gathered there together. All of us were there together. Did we know how precious that moment was?

    I see you carrying my filing cabinet up the stairs and cursing me the entire way, but laughing as you did it. I see the grandkids sliding down the stairs amid shrieks of joy. I see all of us sitting around the baby pool with our feet in the water. I see the kids playing in the jump house which they ultimately gave up for the trampoline.

    Remember, it is you, Julie, and Amy who called me into the guest room and said, "Mom, this house is too big for you. You need to move." You were right. It has gotten too big, but it is really breaking my heart to move. I wish you were here to help me say goodbye. XO

  2. You're right, the memories will stay with you. It's not the place that matters, it's the relationships you built that will carry on. Too bad that doesn't make the change any easier.

  3. I too feel the heartbreak in your words, because of yet another piece of your life going the way of all things, as Mary Oliver says so well. We all love places and people that we hold close to our hearts, and when it comes time to let go, we let it go, but not without the pain. Thinking of you and your family during these times, holding you close to MY heart...

  4. I still, 7 years later, have soulful memories of my home in Kansas City where my children grew up. But houses too big become albatrosses. I'm much happier in the house that suits my needs now, and I'll have the memories, the pictures, the fun stories for the rest of my life.

    Happiness to all of you.

  5. Oh, Keicha, it IS hard to know the home you cherished for years will soon belong to someone else and become a memory. I think most of us have walked that walk before, but it is never fun and it is filled with nostalgia. Thank you for sharing these beautiful photos and memories with us. If there was any doubt about loving this home and the love of a family, these pictures would quickly tell otherwise.


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