I'm an oddly sentimental person. If it weren't for moving, I would have a garage full of stuff. But I don't see it as stuff. It's memories.
I still have my first student ID from college. I have my first diary. I hold on to things that at one point meant something to me, even if, their usefulness expired.
I naturally horde moments as well. Whenever I'm in transition, I try to hold on to even the intangible things. My life now is a perfect example.
We've lived a long time in Virginia, but we're making our way to a permanent location in Florida. We left, came back for the holidays, but now we're getting ready to go back... this time, for good. I'm not entirely sure when we'll be back in Virginia again. So, naturally, I'm very cognizant of what I call "the last of things."
Leaving things behind, even if it's just their commonplace appearance, comes with mixed feelings. It's a death in a sense. Consider friends and family. Sure, we have a multitude of communication tools thanks to the Internet and digital technology. However, I mourn the loss of closeness. Knowing certain people are no longer within an arm's reach or a day's drive is a loss. I feel the gap.
At the same time, I'm very excited about our future. I love our home in the Sunshine State. I'm meeting new people and doing new things that don't make me hate doing those things. It's constantly interesting.
Like I said to a friend today, I got some feelings about this.
The old phrase goes, "Change is good." I think that wisdom still circulates, because it's necessary. Change has to be good, because change is inevitable. I don't care how long you've been the way you've been, whether it's your job, house, friends, health, etc. Something will change in your life, and if you're lucky, you'll be presented with the opportunity to recognize the last of things. It's a small part of the process. You get to imagine the future, mourn the past, and embrace the present all at once. And in case you didn't know, I'm here to tell you that how you feel about it is okay. You can sulk, cry, smile, laugh...actually, a combination of all four is preferred.
Because it's sadness and joy; a twinge of pain and a flood of butterflies. It meets in the middle as a jumbled-up, somewhat unrecognizable mix. It's a good thing. It's healthy.
So, I'm going to enjoy the last of things, even if it's as simple as tapping away on this keyboard. I can take a moment to honor what I'll miss, what I have, and what's ahead. I hope you can too.