Shedding the Old

It was later than I thought when I awoke.

A heavy frost born in the cold of the night lay like a frosty blanket across the houses in my neighborhood. I let the dogs out and then quickly let them back in. Mr. Pips did his famous hand-stand pee and then raced up to the door that Dot was already boxing with her paw. I had no sooner let them in then they arrived. Six hard-working, Spanish-speaking men crammed into a tiny pick-up pulled up in the drive behind a bigger truck hauling a commercial dumpster.

Hurricane Irma breached my roof and they were here to do a complete tear-off. The thin patchwork that was put in place to stop the leaks was going to be replaced with a brand new roof. Tarps were positioned around the perimeter, ladders lifted the men and their shovels up and, crazy as I know this sounds, I suddenly envied my roof.

Like my roof, I have weathered more than my share of big storms and I have the scars (and a few leaky places) to show for it. It seems my work here on earth consists of building and shedding, building and shedding. I gave up trying to fight the process almost seven years ago, gave into it because I no longer had the energy to pretend it wasn’t going to happen after my husband died.

As the team of men moved like an army across my roof, staying in step and ripping off felts and shingles in a siege against the old protective layers, I felt places in me shift and move and it wasn’t just because of the banging. I, too, have old coverings that need torn off and spent timber that needs replacing. In my attic and my garage are piles of stuff that belonged to the now long-dead (My mom, my Dad, my husband, my old LifeDesign magazine publisher self.). I yearn to be rid of it all, to be free of what I will never use and the sadness of remembering that they will never use it again, either.

A new year approaches and I am ready to be lighter, happier, freer in my own skin. I am ready to again shed what no longer serves me, contemplate that which I know is being built within me by the hands of God, and begin again my dance with life.

If you’re ready to shed what no longer serves you, a new Widows Recovery System program begins in January. You can talk to me about it without obligation, sign up for your call here.

2 Comments for “Shedding the Old”



Donna Marie, this was another beautiful piece. Such a perfect analogy. I find myself getting closer to this “place” you are describing. As I was preparing for my extended travel next month I asked myself what items of his, what emotionally-laden objects, did I really want to come home to, and I found myself actually courageous enough to remove many things. It is time. Thank you again for your support.

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