Letting go is sometimes harder than we ever imagined.
Mother’s Day without your mother is one thing. There were many years that mom and I couldn’t be together for special days like today; that’s when the phone call would suffice. But when they are finally gone; gone on to heaven, part of you misses them while the other part knows they are with you more than before.
Those are the days that are sometimes hard to let go.
Then there was today.
As our little blue Honda made it around curve after curve, mountains and valleys below passed by; a never ending change of scenery of green, blues and vistas that stretched as far as the eye could see. Sometimes the guard rail provided a slight comfort while other times there was nothing but an abyss of trees and rocks below. My grip was firm upon the handle above the window as I tried not to show any anxiety. I didn’t want to take away any of her confidence in doing what I knew she could do. My feet firmly planted in the floorboard on the passenger side; meanwhile, my daughter, Mary, having just achieved her learner’s permit, was behind the wheel.
The countless miles that I had behind the wheel along these same mountain passes, often wishing I had the opportunity to gaze out the window as the beautiful panorama unfolded just outside our vehicle, now was at hand; yet, it wasn’t quite what I had envisioned. She was very cautious and patient, heeding my gentle instructions as we glided along on the winding downhills. The squeal of tires only caused me to remember a time my friend Gil and I had tried to see how many times we could squeal the tires around the switchbacks that led to Helen Georgia, causing our wives in the backseat to nearly lose their lunch. In that moment of reflection, I calmly advised her that she might want to slow down.
As our old car moaned going up the steep grades, she patiently urged the engine on. We had stopped once and already overheated on the first climb up through the Linville Gorge area. So, she was overly fearful from that point on of us possibly breaking down. Then to add more angst to our journey, one of the break pads decided to begin rubbing making an annoying whine off and on. Needless to say, we felt as if we were holding our collective breaths by the time we reached the sanctity of Valle Crucis, one of our destinations. We pulled into the shady parking spot behind the Mast General Store and quickly exited the car. I knelt to the ground and thanked God for safe delivery. An elderly man standing nearby walking his dog began laughing, apparently aware of the scene taking place before him; the teenager getting out of the driver’s seat and the relieved father kneeling in prayer.
As the tension of the drive wore off, we each found our place of repose where we could enjoy our cold drinks and snacks, mine being the porch swing at the back of the old store. Sitting there, swaying back and forth, I closed my eyes and reflected back upon the recent days.
There was a lot to be thankful for.
We had made another successful moving/mowing run back to the farm. For some reason, mom was on my mind a lot during the drive back. In fact, at one point I found myself asking God why he had decided to take both my parents. My own children never got to know them, yet there was so little opportunity for them to even come visit.
So much seemed so unfair.
I tried to push the negative thoughts aside, knowing that God had a plan. Besides, they both were in a much better place than they had left; that was at least the comfort I tried to find in their passing.
As we faced the setting sun driving west down I40, there was definitely the peace of mind knowing she no longer suffered. Mary was sitting in the front passenger seat not paying any attention when we began to pass a white SUV. The arms of the driver held the steering wheel with both hands; hands that in fact looked a lot like moms. As we edged on by her, I glanced over just as we were side-by-side and for a brief moment, there she was; mom. She was smiling facing the sunset happily driving to her next destination. I blinked and couldn’t believe my eyes. I tried to say something to my daughter, but the words wouldn’t come. Before I knew it, the little white car was quickly falling behind us, as we were being pushed by the quicker traffic in the fast lane. I so badly wanted to get over and slow back to her position to get one more look but with the trailer behind us in tow, it was impossible. As I watched her car slowly fade into the line of traffic behind us through my rearview mirror, the thought of thanks came to mind.
Yes, I was thankful to have had the chance to see her smiling face once more, if even for a split second.
The old swing creaked, the birds sang their songs and the green grass swayed in the gentle breeze. I took another sip of my cold A&W Root Beer and smiled as I looked out upon the valley below the clear blue sky.
God was with us and for that, there was a peace of mind that wrapped around me like the comfort of that well-worn quilt I so loved to use on cold winter nights.
There are times to let go, and then there are times we must savor the letting go.
These are the moments we cherish forever.
Thanks be to God.
“Walk in wisdom toward those who are outside, redeeming the time. Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.” – Colossians 4:5-6
