Emotional Floodgates Open

As I previously mentioned, i have been in the thick of moving to another house these past two weeks. Lots of sorting out and packing are involved. It is remarkable how powerful emotions can be stirred up when one goes through personal effects. It's like a portal to the past, a sort of time machine that catapults one to days long gone. I had to sift through all the children's things. It was quick and almost painless for the younger ones but the entire exercise of going through Maverick's and Kitty's things was a test in restraint.

I fingered through their old picture albums, which held photos taken as far back as seconds after their birth and a million others that documented the important milestones in their life. And of course there were also the not-so-important, plus the down right silly ones of sticking the tongue out at the camera for no apparent reason. I poured through report cards, notebooks, test papers, letters, notes, sports paraphernalia, medicine, cosmetics, clothing, accessories, shoes, etc.

I was okay for the most part, able to hold everything together until I stumbled across Kitty's old Cornell University paraphernalia and her high school prom photos. There were Cornell pennants, shirts, IDs, reports. She had aced her first semester there but was very unhappy and so she left Ithaca for London. I felt my stomach lurch and the tears sort of pool into my eye sockets but I held it together until I stumbled upon her prom photos. She was all girly and all dressed up. She had flown to Cornell after the prom and her move to London, along with her decision to embrace an alternative lifestyle happened around the same period.

I slowly got up, locked her bedroom door and let the floodgates open. I had a moment there--a long moment to grieve over what seemed to me as the perfect girl getting into the perfect school living the perfect life and I was ecstatic! But that was just it. She wasn't happy; I was. It wasn't perfect for her; it was all skewed and troubled. I wanted Cornell for her because I probably would have never gotten in. I had pinned my pride on her personal achievements and nothing could have been more wounding. And so, after several minutes, I packed them away in a box that was for transport to the new house. Along with it I packed away my tears.

I have never seen her as happy as she is now, as true to herself, and as liberated. I am proud of her--so, so proud!