“let it be”
“let me be!”
“Let things be, don’t, just let me be”
“please can’t you just let go?”
She didn’t understand. She wasn’t exactly bright in a few ways and she didn’t understand. This wasn’t the first person telling her this. Her sister did. Right after she got married and wanted freedom and was feeling stifled with her new roles and she didn’t want an older sister continuing to mother her around. When she wanted to support her and help her through her confused newly married life.
It was hard letting go.
It meant “shut up, I don’t want to talk about this anymore”, “I don’t need your input or suggestion.”. “I don’t want to listen to this.”,. “I want peace, just leave me alone.” and then some more.
That hurt. It shouldn’t, but it did. It was asking her to give up, to relinquish her responsibility towards her baby sister. No, she didn’t want to baby her, she knew she was an adult and she had to fend for herself most of the time, but how can one just oust a relationship just like that? She worked hard. She got angry. Then she got sad. At being shut off. She tried climbing over walls, drilling holes into them and tearing them down. Nothing worked. It just got harder. The more harder she worked, the more walls came up. Vehemently, strictly and firmly, every brick she pulled down, two came in place. Thick and solid. Unbudging. Relentless.
She ultimately wore down. Tired and exhausted from the tearing and while devoting energies to the rest of her relationships and responsibilities, slowly, she gave up.
The walls remained.
They just got invisible, but the walls remained. Thinner maybe, not as harsh as they were, but they stood there. Firm and cold but very familiar.
After many years she heard them again. This time she didn’t acknowledge. It wasn’t the same kind of relationship. She didn’t think she could stifle. She surely didn’t realize what she was doing. The same tone. The exasperation in the voice. The snapping conversation that ended with a snappier, let it be.
Let me be. Let me just be. Can’t you please just let me be. Let it be. It will be easier, let go, things will magically be easier. Please?
She tried. In short spurts. Half a day. Then two days. Then 3. Then a week. Sending a picture wasn’t encroaching now, was it? Not asking about his day was a good thing right? Just a Hi, was still allowed? Or no? Should I be sharing this news article or no? Maybe I will. Oh. Am sorry, did I intrude? I just thought it was relevant, so I did. Okay, fine, I won’t bother you again. Sorry. Oooooh, I’ll send this picture of my Z. Will bring smile. The poor thing can use a smile. Woohooo! What?! Silence. Nothing. No smile. No batting of an eyelid. Oh. Ok. No big deal. You don’t have to reply. It’s okay. I understand. It is hard times now. It’s ok, really. Am just rambling.
She held on.
Lifeline as they say.
She was tired of being alone and lost in the sea. So she held on. The rope hurt her fingers. Her palm was getting chafed. She could see the raw flesh, red and streaked. Pain? what pain? There is no pain? She was used to discomfort. So she held on. The pain got worse. The cuts appeared and the red got richer. Then it started doing funny things like moving, shining and in streams and it started dropping down on the bottom on the floor. She shifted weight. She used her shawl. It got better. She smiled. It’s not too bad now. The shawl got soaking wet. It hurt some more.
Tired and beat, she sat down. Holding onto the thin shred of the rope. She didn’t want to drift away into the sea. Exhausted she closed her eyes and dozed off.
Startled, she opened her eyes. Lighting struck at the edge of the boat and she rocked. She held on to the edge with one hand and the rope with the other. In that clear bright lit moment, she saw beyond the rope. It was in shreds. The original luster and the strength it gave her was fading. The rope had done its part. It was straining under the pressure of her fingers. The release would be heavenly. For the support to drift peacefully.
Gasping and without much thought, she opened her palm.
The rope heaved and moved, ever so gently, slowly, slipping with the drift and current and she saw it fall over the edge of the boat and disappear into the black waters.
Tears came afresh. She screamed a loud agonizing gut-wrenching scream. Into the black waters. After her lifeline. Just a loud nascent scream. Illegible even to her numb brain. No words formed shape. Nothing. It was just pain and sadness. There was relief somewhere as she looked down upon her blood soaked palms. She continued crying. Hot tears soaking her face and her neck. No, she still didn’t say a word. She didn’t think of words. Words didn’t come to her. She just let it all out. Thankful for the silence and the stillness around her.
She must have passed out, coz when she did come to her senses, her Z was nudging her to be let out.
She stood up, washed her face and looked into the mirror. A strange woman stared back. She smiled. The mouth smiled back.
The migraines attacked her with a vengeance these days. The mind now sees words. “Let go” Branded in red and flashing. Like the disco ball in the basement. Yes, yes, she screams back silently.
I am. I have. I will.
Am a pro now, she smiles. It’s simple. Don’t hold on ever. Then you will never be asked to let go.
Is the second part the story of a mother letting go if her son??
It could be. I don’t think I had the role of a son in mind, more like friend, lover, husband kind in mind..
Hmm..Ok..I imagined that the lady was too old 🙂
Lol, that’s the beauty of art. It’s open to any interpretation by the viewer 🙂
I comment here sporadically. Liked this post and felt compelled to chime in. But I wonder if “she” in this plot is mixing up letting go and giving up. One can let go without giving up…. the line is thin but the distinction very profound. When you let go, it is no longer about you but the other or the relationship or the issue.
You are right. 🙂
I have a feeling she is giving up more than letting go. It seems less work plus maybe she has lost faith too.
Thanks for commenting, pls do chime in more. I miss dialogs here on the blog..
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