letting go of ghosts

Last week I went to visit my grams in the place I grew up. I have gone 3 times since I left almost 17 years ago. 

The first time was about 10 years after moving away. I went with my ex- fiance.

The next time was to take care of my grams after eye surgery. that was about 5 years ago.

The third- last week, just to visit with my grams.

On the first trip, I went to introduce my ex to my family.  We drove by all the places that meant something to me, but there was just to much heartache and pain attached to everything I saw. We stopped at the house I grew up in. The changes that were made. I wanted to knock on the door… but what would I say?  

I had a bad past. One day when I was 14, my father back handed me with a closed fist. I turned halfway around from the force of the blow, then fell to my knees. I ran to my bed hoping to find salvation… instead I got beat some more. That day changed my life forever. I gave up on life. But this isn’t why I am writing today.

The next trip I stayed with my grams for the 3 days I was there. I met with an old friend of my moms, but none of my treasured friends from back in the day. I didn’t drive by my old house that time. I didn’t go anywhere.

About a month or two ago, I had a friend ask me where my hometown was and what it looked like. We did a google search for my old house and talked about what it was like to grow up there. I also realized that I have very very few pictures of those places that were instrumental in who I became.

Last week I wanted to see my grams…in addition I let go of some ghosts.

I went by my old house to take a few pictures. I got out of the car and before I knew it was knocking on the front door. The couple that bought it from my father were home. They agreed to let me take pictures. We began talking about what it was like when I lived there. I stood on the front porch and realized how many wonderful memories were on that property. They were kind enough to show me the inside of the house. My father ruined it, but they have done their best to make it their home and it is no longer mine. I am happy they are living there.

The part that amazes me is although it was different… some of the things I loved most about that house were still the same. Most importantly the pool. I thought I would be emotional from the pain of that one night that changed my life… but I wasn’t. I was emotional for all those happy moments in my life. The ones that helped shape who I am. I was able to set it free.

I continued my journey to my other haunts smiling at all of the good stuff taking pictures along the way.

Somehow… I feel kinda whole again!