What does letting go look like? What does it sound like? I
imagine it’s a lot like a movie scene where a piece of glass shatters in slow
motion. There is no sound. Just the painful and anxious eternity that it takes
for the glass to hit the floor. One braces for the fall, knowing from
experience – from intuition – what the fall means. A loud noise. A mess of
broken glass. Even blood. It signifies finality. Once the glass shatters, it’s
gone. The pieces will never be put back together. It will never look the same
as it once did.
All of these thoughts fill the empty space that exists as
the end draws near.
What are the rules when letting go? Where does judgment
fall? Expectations? What if one laughs instead of cries? Feels relief? Maybe
the pressure of protecting something so fragile was daunting, and the release
is liberating. Should they feel shame? Guilt? Anger?
The glass shatters in what seems like minutes, but in
reality is merely seconds. The reality sets in. What has taken hours, days,
weeks, months, years to create has been destroyed. In seconds. Only now does
one realize the implications. The irrevocability is deafening. It screams to be
heard. To be acknowledged.
The silence of the fall will echo forever. Only acceptance
will usher in the silence.
