Just last week I wrote about Letting Go Of Balloons. How appropriate, because in the days following I had to let go of a very special red balloon.
Red is not my favourite colour (that’s green) yet I regularly find myself picking red when choosing an object by its colour. Whether it’s a red ribbon for Ted, or red shoes (I have a number of pairs including some I picked up in England recently and can’t wait to wear when the weather gets warmer), or red balloons. Red is a bold colour. It stands out. It says “look at me“, and everyone does. Even though its confidence may in fact not be great, the colour says “I’m me, and I’m proud to be me“. Well that’s how I like to think of it. I would always pick the red balloon.
Back to the red balloon I lost. It was a very special balloon, and I had been honoured to have it in my life, and yes, I loved that balloon. That balloon was a very big part of my life, but the time arrived for it to leave. As I said last week, sometimes balloons are meant to be set free, sometimes they are happier to fly free, maybe to find another person to hold their string, or maybe to fly solo. Whatever the reason, sometimes it happens and while you know it’s going to hurt like hell, it’s time to say goodbye. But I will always remember my balloon with love and great fondness.
As the balloon lifted off into the sky it felt to me like it’s string wrapped around my right arm and ripped it off as it left. Yes, that’s a painful image and the reality has indeed been very painful. I felt (and still feel) like my world has tipped on its axis, I am left without not only my red balloon, but also a limb ( or maybe life as I knew it) that I needed to function.
My life changed, and I am left not only grieving for my red balloon, but also the limb that somehow made life work. It ripped away from my body with ‘violence’ and oh, how that hurt. The red balloon is gone now, and was perhaps never mine to have. Maybe I only had it on loan. It has more important things to do. As for my arm, which leaves me feeling incomplete? Maybe it won’t grow back, but I will learn to adapt. A part of me is gone with that red balloon, but when I have licked my wounds, and treated my hurts with care and time, life will return. Perhaps not the same, but there will be hope again.
With that red balloon were hopes, dreams and plans. They are now gone, and in time I must build my life again. It will happen, but for now it is painful and difficult to adjust to life without my red balloon, and the part of me that left with it.
PS. If you have no idea what I’m on about, then that is okay. Bear with me. This is just something that I needed to write for myself, while retaining some privacy.
The Beatles sums up what I must do for now. This version, with a few others along for the ride… Music is such great therapy.
“Even on my weakest days I get a little bit stronger”
― Sara Evans
- Letting Go Of Balloons (infinitesadnessorhope.wordpress.com)
- Real (infinitesadnessorhope.wordpress.com)