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Some Things Are Over. Some Things Go On.


I’m not very good with things ending. Or change. Or wrapping anything in bubble wrap, because, while many have suggested I attempt to live in a bubble, you can clearly see why this is not feasible for someone as “graceful” as I:

some things are over some things go on

That was last night’s performance of “Why Becky Should Never Touch Anything, Ever.”

When I was pregnant with Alex, a new Mexican restaurant opened up nearby, much to my delight. Somehow, barfing up Mexican food was easier than, say, Italian, which meant that once I’d been there, I was hooked.

The next time we tried to go, the place was closed. Out of business? Afraid of scary pregnant ladies who want extra! salsa! and meat? I don’t know. But I do know that I spent the next few days SAD about it – it was good, nice family owned place (which I love) and the food was amazing. Chicago and the food we have, man, it’s incredible.

There’s just something about saying goodbye, or being unable to say goodbye to something I once really liked that makes me sad in the pants.

Watching the ash (ass) tree in front of my house be slowly killed by the Emerald Ash Borer (Ass Boner) was horrifying to someone like me. “Why can’t they put it out of it’s misery?” I’d sit out my window and wonder. If only I’d managed to start spraying for a bug I had no idea would be causing a plague on our (houses) trees back before they’d known the Ass Boner would be destroying the trees lining my street, maybe I could’ve saved it. Or, at the very least, I could’ve tried, and known that I’d done my level best to deal with the dying.

I didn’t because we can’t prepare for these sorts of things.

I grow roses, because I’m a nerd and, well, it runs in my blood. The roses, not the nerddom, although one could make a case for either, I suppose. I spend an inordinate amount of time preparing my roses for the plagues on THEIR houses, and still, I’ll go out and shake my fist at blackspot, before I wander back indoors – annoyed – to get my gardening tools and other sundries.

The tree is gone.

Last week, or perhaps it was the week before, the tree people came and took the branches, half-dead, down, chainsaws whirring, while I sat back in my chair, working on this or that, and felt a peace wash over me.

I’d said my goodbyes to the tree and I knew that it was time.

Time to move on.

The sadness I’d felt over the loss of my beloved tree, over the things that are over, they have been replaced by a new feeling, a reminder of sorts: while some things are put to bed, forever lost, others will go on. New places. New people. New experiences. New life.

I may never be the sort of person who celebrates the death of something I love. I may always find change to be overwhelming and scary. I may never be able to easily say goodbye without weeping. But that’s okay.

The things that are over are gone forever.

But others, so many others, they go on.

some things are over some things go on

Even walls fall down.

8 Comments to

“Some Things Are Over. Some Things Go On.”

  1. On September 11th, 2012 at 5:19 pm Christina Hornack Says:

    I find myself grieving with you over this recent change in your life, even more so than I did when I found myself in your exact same spot. I was excited for the future, happy that something so bad was ending, and ready to make a fresh start. I can only hope the same for you – that it is so much more tragic to those of us watching than those of you living the change. <3

  2. On September 11th, 2012 at 1:50 pm Pete In Az Says:

    “I may never be the sort of person who celebrates the death of something I love.”

    Personally, I consider that an excellent trait in a person.

    The top picture reminds me of something I learned about a month ago:
    When trying to unclog an immersion blender, UNPLUG the dam thing.
    And, sometimes cuts take a couple of days to stop bleeding.

  3. On September 11th, 2012 at 1:58 pm Pete In Az Says:

    And, when it doesn’t hurt so much, take your chainsaw and hollow out the stump, put some potting soil in there and plant something.

  4. On September 11th, 2012 at 3:01 pm Dawnie Says:

    OMG, you should totally turn that stump into a flower garden. But maybe let someone else handle the chainsaw. I’ve seen you wield power tools. It ain’t pretty. HAHAHAHA.

  5. On September 11th, 2012 at 6:26 pm Triplezmom Says:

    I love, love, love the stump flower garden idea. Maybe your kids could plant stuff in there? So they can garden like mommy?

    But yeah, avoid using the power tools yourself. Just in case.

  6. On September 12th, 2012 at 3:16 am Rebecca Arvieux Says:

    I love you and your ability to put words to the pain that we all must feel when this happens in our lives. Thank you for that.

  7. On September 12th, 2012 at 6:45 am Jolie Says:

    while you look HAWT in a swimsuit and chainsaw in your hands, I suggest letting someone else hollow out the stump and LOVE the idea of using it as a planter. Go Pranksters!
    Hugs to you mah friend, 🙂

  8. On September 12th, 2012 at 9:50 am roxie Says:

    Wow, your babies are getting big! Soon, I won’t be able to call them babies anymore! But only after the sippy cup goes bye bye.

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