Living Life Freely

photo by “Unknown”

“Loving yourself for who you are and not letting anything get in the way of that”, is the first thing she learned on the path to living life freely.  She says “it’s how we all know right from wrong, or good from bad. Something deep down inside speaks to the mind, body and spirit urging some emotion or feeling. It’s a caution for whatever is about to happen”.

She thought she had forgiven someone special to her. But really, it was more like “out of sight, out of mind”. Other circumstances in life seemed to fill the void and pain of her loss. She was totally distracted by the life she had chosen to live.

One day it all clicked, and she realized, she was the only one who could decide what she could and could not do. She chose the words that flowed from her lips. She chose the way she responded to other people. she was in control of herself even when she gave the power to someone else. It had always been her decision to make, and she stood accountable.

How many people can “actually” say that? How many people can stand up and confront their truth to be accountable for every word spoken and every action taken?

It is hard to confront the truth. It’s hard because truth cannot be challenged. It is, what it is. Period! Sometimes the truth is bent a little, but doesn’t that just mean it is a lie? The truth cannot be true and a lie at the same time. It’s one, or the other.

I have a box filled with memories. Memories I do not visit as often as I would like. But when I did, it would bring up these old feelings and questions that were never answered. Then I would notice things that I had not noticed before. Over the years I became awfully familiar with every item in the box.

One day I opened the box and pulled out an article. I decided to read it. It was then, I decided to start looking for the answers to my questions. I ordered some documents from public records and began my search. I would only allow myself a specific amount of time in this mind space because being there too long would change my reactions towards a special person in my life.

It wasn’t until years later that I decide to “actually” read the documents I had received. They were stored away in the box with all the feelings and questions that I had. I chose to move forward, never truly having to deal with my emotions surrounding the things in the box. There on the paper in front of me was an address. An unbelievably valuable address.

Needless to say; I looked at the address again and again over the next year. I even wrote it on a sticky note and put it in my car. Covid had struck the world like lightning, and I rarely went outside. That was my next big excuse. By then, I was realizing my truth, but I was not ready to confront it. There was just too much pain, hurt, blame, and grief involved, and I did not want to go there. I had spent years building up my tolerance to it all, so why would I go back there? Right?

I was living my life freely. I thought I was living my life freely until the sticky note caught my attention. I was out early one morning driving near St. Paul. Once I was finished with my errands in that area, I notice the note in the change compartment. I reached for it and told my car to take me to the address and the navigation system did just that.  I was not sure what I would find. I didn’t know what to expect even, I just went.

The address did not exist. Actually, the location was a space in between a red house and a tan house. I decided to go to the red house. I don’t know why, I just did. Let’s just say my mind, body and spirit seemed to agree with the red house.

I knocked on the door. While I was standing there waiting, I glanced across the street and a neighborly gentleman waved hello to me. I waved back then turned to ring the bell again. A nice woman by the name of Ruth answered the door. I explained to her who I was and why I was there. I was in the right place. The information she gave me, brought automatic tears to my eyes. She was so pleasant and understanding. She then told me to talk to her neighbor across the street.

I was hesitant at first. “Maybe this is enough for now,” I thought. After walking back to my car, unlocking it and opening the door, I decided to go talk to the neighbor. This nice man, on a hot and sunny day was kind enough to welcome my presence. He was pleasant as well. It was as if they were expecting me. He talked to me when I could no longer talk and waited for me to get my composure. He saw my tears and wiped them with his words. A complete stranger, imagine that!

He and I agreed that I would come back on a later date, and he would take me to the other neighbor’s houses that could maybe answer some of the questions I needed answered. I knew doing this would not answer all my questions but there was something deep inside urging me to do this.

Johnathan was his name. When I arrived on that sacred day of remembrance, Johnathan was there waiting. He said, “I was hoping you would return”. He told me how he and his sister had mourned their mother and how he understood how important this was for me. I was very thankful and appreciative of how sympathetic and attentive he was to my personal situation. I told him that a few family members and friends would be arriving shortly to stand with me in commemoration of my loss. Johnathan was my tour guide through a healing process, and I think in some way he knew it. It was almost like he was ready and prepared.

Johnathan asked me if I was ready, and I told him I was. He mentioned that one of the families may have been up north fishing so we couldn’t talk with them. We then walked to his next-door neighbor’s house. Marsha and her husband came to the door and invited us to sit with them on their front porch. They had lived in their home for over 25 years and could recall very little about the questions I was asking. Marsha remembered being out of town on the weekend the things in my box were created. They were told by other neighbors what had happened. She remembered feeling sad and heart broken by what she’d heard. Marsha then called Holly, another neighbor on the block who lived there over 25 years.

Holly remembered more details, but I was unable to speak with her over the phone and I did not get a chance to meet her. I appreciate Holly for answering Marsha’s questions so that I could hear her words for what she remembered about that day.

Thank you to Marsha and her husband for their kindness and conversation. I especially want to thank Johnathan for showing humility, empathy and plain ole human kindness to me. I appreciate him for just taking the time out of his day to walk with me.  

I would also like to thank the family who allowed a space for me to grieve as they watched in silence with other neighbors.

Although I did not want to go through the process of feeling my feelings… (pain, grief, loss, etc.), I knew it was something I had to do. There was a lesson in it all. It took some years, but I did learn something.

I learned something important. I learned my truth! See, although this special person may have caused me to have the box, they were not the reason I did not move forward. It was all my choice, my decision to not confront my truth. I wanted to place the blame, but I felt guilty in doing so because this person was special in some way. I had to question myself “more special than me?” But then it came to me.

It would be easier if this special person would give me the answers I needed, considering the truth of it all can only come from them. How can I control what others think and feel? Who am I to tell them, demand of them, or even threaten them to tell me something I needed to hear, just because I needed to hear it? I cannot control that, nor them. I can only control me, myself, and I.

For 25 years, I have grieved in my own way over the things in my box. I thought I was living my life freely. I can see the growth in my life spiritually, mentally, physically and on paper. So, why now?

This year, 2021, has opened more doors, gateways and Pandora boxes than I can mention at this moment. The Universe is opening in my favor right now, so who am I to ask, “why now?” Instead of asking why, I’m deciding to meet my truth. The truth is, I cannot blame someone else for not giving me what I needed. I cannot blame someone else for how I feel. I cannot blame someone else for my unhappiness. The blame is mine because I am in control of me.

August 16th is the Anniversary date for my 25-year-old anguish. It was also, the day I had agreed to return to the address. It was the day for celebration of life and love. It was the day for remembrance and release. A day for forgiveness. It was a day to scream out loud in public regardless of who’s watching and know you’re ok. It felt like a day to be neighborly and kind. It was a day to share with family and friends.  It was my day for courage. It was the day I tour down the walls of my box to finally live life freely.

IN MEMORY OF MASTER GREGORY EDWARDS III

Mommy Loves you infinitely, LG my Doodle Buns!

Hey Tuss, what’s your Story?

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