Hubby and I spent the morning doing some pre-spring cleaning. The lack of organization in the attic made it impossible to put Yule decorations away so boxes were still out. It wasn’t too much work or too much time it was just a matter of doing it. There’s so many better ways we’d rather spend our down time. Hubby has grad school and his RCs. I have my scrapbooks and crafting and Magick. We love to be outside whenever the weather gets pretty good or better. And then there’s the best time-suck that ever is, was, or will be: Witchlette. But this morning, I had had enough. More than enough. And we cleaned up. Witchlette helped (as much as a toddler can help) and we got half of the attic organized and all of the Yule decorations put away. Yay progress!
While we were cleaning, I came across a small shoe box of some random pictures of M, my sister. Something that had been weighing on me for a while now…something that part of me wanted to do but I was too afraid to follow-through on…I had the absolute urge to do it.
Let me back up for a moment…
While I was pregnant with Witchlette, I had some of the most crazy vivid dreams. I’m already trained in dream recall related to my spiritual practice. So remembering a dream is second nature to me. Now compound that training to pregnancy dreams and wow.
Of course as the days pass, the details of the dream are lost. A few snipbits remain, like searching an abandoned school for one of my best friends. Other dreams are more profound, and everything stays with me.
One night’s dream in February 2013, for instance. The most pivotal details are still with me.
I’m pregnant with Witchlette and carrying around M. M’s big enough to walk by herself but she won’t let me put her down. We’re shopping for baby clothes at the mall, and then we go to jewelry and Mom joins us. The lady behind the counter says “You can’t have both. You have to sacrifice one for the other.” I held M tighter and left the mall. I went home and am rushing around because I’m late. I grabbed my helmet, got on Leo (my motorcycle…belly and all) and sped towards PNC Arena. The circus was in town and I was going to take M. But she was gone. And when I got there I realized I left the ticket at home. I tried to get a new printed one at the box office but they wouldn’t print one for me. I knew M was gone and I wanted to enjoy the circus for her. And Baby Witchlette.
M was gone…again.
When I first woke up, I was devastated. Again. But then I thought through the details. And the voice of the lady, and the words she spoke, resonated. “You can’t have both”. I couldn’t put M down because it wasn’t actually her; it was the part of her I carry with me. I couldn’t continue to carry that baggage and be the whole mother Baby Witchlette needs me to be.
I woke up to Witchlette kicking me and I knew I made the right decision. I let M go, or so I thought.
I let more of M go, but I was still holding onto a lot of…not her, but my grief. On my bedside table, I had a shrine to her: a picture of me and M, our matching bears in “hugs” and “kisses” shirts, and her wolf from when we went to Alaska. I also had a purple dolphin she picked out as a gift for me on the last vacation she went on. And I had a tree ornament with a blond and brunette that said “sisters”. Lately, the shrine was becoming less of a relief of more of an emotional burden. Time has passed and enough of the pain has dulled away that when I look at those items, and I don’t feel the sharp ache, I wonder what it wrong with me. When I opened the box and saw the few spare pictures, I went and got all of the stuff and neatly packed it into the box.
I talked to my best friend, J, about this and she is really proud of this next step. Her encouraging words and Hubby’s encouraging smile as I was packing up told me I was making the right decision based on where I am in my journey. I don’t need stuff to remember how much I love her and how much she meant to me. She will always be a part of who I am.
To end with some humor, when I first told Hubby about the dream his response: that was a crazy dream with crazy symbolism, like that one episode of Alias where Sydney goes to see the stoner doctor.