It's hard to let go, huh?

I have many stories since the last time I blogged. What I want to relate today is what I am going through now. This past Christmas was the first one without my mother's physical presence. Overall, it was a happy one. We remembered, we joked, and we eventually put the tree up. For background, the Mrs. and I went to Florida to spend Christmas with the Reverend. We were supposed to come back on December 29th but the weather was so nice and the weather in Michigan so crappy we decided to come back on January 1st. It was good we made that decision.

Everything happens for a reason, sometimes.

On New Year's Eve, we called my godmother and her family to wish her a happy New Year. She has been battling first breast cancer and then leukemia brought on by the breast cancer. She introduced my parents to one another for dating (I think they had met years earlier because their mothers played bridge or something together) and she was my mother's best friend. Anyway, we did not reach them that night but my godfather called us back on New Year's day to tell us that my godmother died. That alone would have been sad enough, but it also served as a reminder that my mother died and I remembered that she (mom) told me about 1.5 years ago that I should call my godmother more because she (mom) did think she (godmother) had much more time left.

Sad very, very sad.

I would describe myself as lacking in emotional affect, at times (January through December). That being the case, I tend to express my feelings and emotions through words more than gestures. (As I write this I think I am wrong but whatever). Anyway, we returned home and then today I went to get a massage. I really needed it. I could not relax to save my life. I was tight in places I am normally not tight and my normal tight places were even tighter. At one point, I was remarking on and acknowledging my tightness with the goddess of massage and she said "It's hard to let go, huh?". I felt these words were so true. There were times during my massage that I feared letting go because I would cry. There were moments of letting go but those moments were few.

Massage, particularly done by professional, is a very intimate (not to be confused with sexual or sensual) act. I felt bad because I knew the goddess of massage could feel my sadness. If we were the only ones in the room, I probably would have let go more and possibly cried but I felt the curtain did not provide adequate privacy for me to feel comfortable in that way. In the end, she did a great massage and despite my best efforts in the end I felt very relaxed and relieved.

Funny note, to me at least: She was moving my underwear to get at my glutes and she ripped each leg of my underwear. She kept apologizing but I thought it was really funny because she ripped one leg and then went to work on other side and ripped the other leg. I am laughing about it even now.