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Desperately Seeking Detachment

Yesterday was the 24th anniversary of my mother’s death. Although many years have passed since that awful Tuesday morning, some anniversaries hit me harder than others. This year was one of those years, and it wasn’t even a “milestone.” Maybe it’s because of the stress I’m under professionally. Maybe it’s because of some personal stuff that’s got me down. More likely it’s a combination of both atop the usual grief.

I usually post a remembrance of my mother on April 12, but this time I felt the need to go more inward with my “celebration” of the day. I needed to chew on some things that still have to do with my mother all these many years after her death.

And what I kept coming back to was the word “detachment.” My mother’s death from colon cancer left a gaping hole in my life and in my family, but what you quickly — or sometimes not so quickly — learn after the loss of a close loved one is that rest of the world goes on without so much as a backward glance. You either move with it, carrying your grief deep in your heart, or you get stuck.

It was there, in this school of life, that I first learned detachment, although I didn’t recognize it as that. I learned that I could go on, I would go on, without my mother, despite the fact that I couldn’t imagine that was possible. I learned that losing my mother didn’t lessen my love for her; it only shifted the physical landscape of our relationship. I learned that the ties that bind us to the people in our lives can snap in a flash and without warning, with or without sickness to speed things along.

Now I wonder if the kind of detachment forced upon me long ago might be a good template for detachment of my own choosing right now. It’s not easy, to be sure. Trying to untangle unhealthy connections to possessions, habits, family members, friends, and more goes against everything the ego wants. We want to feel loved. We want to feel valued. We want to feel good and look good and live good. But what does that get any of us?

We end up clinging to — or grieving for — things we can’t have, people who won’t love us, places we can’t go, success we don’t achieve, and on and on. Before you know it, life revolves around the lack, not the blessings. But if we can learn detachment, to own things without letting them own us, to love people without expecting love in return, we inch closer to the place Jesus talked about, a place where none of this earthly stuff matters all that much because we have our sights set on something much better.

With each passing year, detachment seems to find its way deeper and deeper into my life without my really trying all that hard, mostly with regard to professional things or material things. It’s the personal stuff that is so difficult to detach from because it’s so, well, personal. But it’s not impossible, and for the first time I think I’m feeling detachment finally settle in there as well. We’ll see. I can’t force it because then I’d just be getting attached to my detachment.


“The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” — John 12:25

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  1. Rob Donnelly #

    Funny, I was just thinking of one of my favorite passages from the Bible. I posted it yesterday and it seems to sum up what your I think your post means…

    So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
    –Matthew 6:31-34

    April 14, 2012
  2. Rob,
    Your favorite Bible quote is one of my favorites too. “Don’t worry about tomorrow…” I just wish I could really live it, but worry is my specialty.
    Peace,
    Mary

    April 15, 2012

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