Rituals of Letting Go & Remembering
How much do we let go?
How much do we let go? That’s a question I see so many of us who have suffered a deep loss struggle with. Do I take my wedding ring off? How much do I get to cling to the feeling of her presence? Is it OK that I sometimes wear his PJs to bed?
Secretly I thought I wouldn’t have to really let go of her at all.
I thought I’d have my wife on speed-dial after she died. After all I’d specialized in helping spirits pass over for years, as well as other rites and rituals associated with death & dying.
“But like so many of those who die well, she was more concerned with me getting on with living than clinging to her. Several other people confirmed what I found when they journeyed to her spirit.
‘I’m good, guys, I need to be left alone for now.’ We all knew she was in a good place and it was our time to get on with living.”- from Wilder Grief, Rediscovering the Song of Life After Loss
Where was my consolation prize!?! Couldn’t I have a partner in the spirit world to visit when I was down or had questions about the kids? Spirit sex … maybe just a little?
Nope.
I have received visits from her over the years; many dreams, signs, visits and just moments of feeling her. They never come when I want them, never when I order them up. At first she was generous with dream visits, now she shows up when I’m the least clingy, the most present in the here and now.
We need to have boundaries with those who have crossed over.
That’s not something we like to think about when we hope for visits from our beloveds who have died. Sometimes we yearn for them so deeply we’d travel anywhere, risk anything just to be with them for a few more moments.
There were times when I was so immersed in dreams with her I would have sacrificed everything to stay there. I was drunk on the feeling of being close to her spirit again. I was less with the kids and more with the wound of losing her. That wasn’t fair to any of us.
I needed to commit to being here fully.
Eventually I worked out processes with my helping spirits, allowing me to disentangle myself from her more. I invested in me-time, focused on having fun with the kids and spending time in nature. My ache eased.
I’ve used a variety of rituals over the years to honor the barrier that separates us. The best ones call us to remember being together while also reinforcing the terrain that separates us now. One the kids and I like to do together is write letters to those who have passed and burn them together.
“Dear Momma, I miss you so much. Bella misses you too…”
”Terry, the kids and I are doing well. It was a long, grey winter. I am so glad for the Spring…”
”Dear Packa, I wish we could have spent more time together. I was fishing with Dad and he told me how much you loved to fish…”
Into the fire.
One of the most beautiful parts of this ritual is that it reveals the ongoing conversation always happening, even though they are no longer here. The simple act of writing a letter and delivering it in a way the spirits might receive helps to complete the cycle of remembering and releasing.
That doesn’t mean I don’t reserve the right to walk around the house talking to the departed when I feel like it. I regularly envoke my maternal Grandfather when cooking. A great cook, his sharpening steel hangs in my kitchen. I reach for it not only to sharpen my butchers knife but to invoke his skill and wisdom.
“What do you think Eddie-boy, broiled or fried?”
My most recent post from 31 Poems About Grief is an expression of how we can allow ourselves to be haunted by our beloved in a way that honors their passing and the connection we still feel with them.
Have you ever wished to be haunted by someone who has passed over? Have they visited you? How did you know they were there?
From 31 Poems About Grief, #7 How Swans Grieve.
I am the initial phase of loss. Just four days into loosing my 88 year old mother. I love your rituals of remembrance, and how you highlight healthy ways of holding on and the letting go.