Holding on and letting go

"You cannot always be torn in two." Frodo Baggins

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m thinking again about what my goals should be and what my life will be like in 2011. Change is imminent for many people close to me whose life changes will affect mine. 

In three days, my two college boys will leave for school; in the same week my dear friend of over 20 years will move to Southern California; six weeks later my daughter will leave for her 18-month mission in New Zealand. Other changes, though not quite as clearly marked, have been ongoing and will also affect next year. My mother-in-law, once the lively hub of our extended Perry family, has had a series of strokes and is now content to be waited on almost entirely. Her husband, once the quiet, independent patriarch who now shoulders all the caregiving, accepts with alacrity any offer of help.

Wiping away tears

Recently, I saw a photo on Facebook of my brother with his daughter on her wedding day. If I'm not mistaken, she is crying and he is tenderly wiping away her tears.

Wiping away tears is an intimate experience shared between very few people. Yes, occasionally we’re honest enough to cry in front of people. But to let them into our personal space and allow them to physically touch us in order to comfort us marks an entirely different level of intimacy. Think about it: When was the last time someone actually touched your face and wiped away your tears?