Tuesday, September 03, 2019

Closure


The definition of the word "closure" is an act or process of closing something, especially an institution, thoroughfare, or frontier, or of being closed. {Oxford dictionary} I am processing this word closure because it is real in my life right now as I need to say goodbye to my Dad, Colorado and Glen Eyrie as I know them as well as their house in Colorado. Yes, I can go back to most of these places but it will look different in the future. With a closure trip coming up, I want to process and think through this idea of closure. And also think about how to bring closure with beauty and grace.

In the definition above - closure is named as an "act" or a "process" - an act is more of a one-time thing, right? And a process implies multiple steps. So, an act of closure would possibly be something like no school today for bad weather whereas a business closure would be more of a process.

I also think of closure to a book or a chapter, were all the loose ends wrapped up and leaving me hanging or satisfied as a reader? So, with closing a chapter of life, right? I don't want to feel unraveled but rather secured. The process up to the closure, honestly, feels unraveled at this point.

Our family moved to Colorado in 1984 when I was only seven years old. My Dad worked professionally for the Boy Scouts in those days and they moved their executives every few years like the military does. After some difficulties with asthma, it was determined that a dry climate would better suit his health.


Boxes were packed, schools were transferred mid-year, and a little red rental house on a culdesac became our new home. Several years later brought a move across town, a change in jobs so we didn't have to move out of state and a growing love for the mountains.

Living in Colorado likely means snow for Halloween and Easter. It means cool evenings and crisp, delicious air, the best tasting water and a joke that if you don't like the weather you have only to wait fifteen minutes. You learn not to step on cacti, always to wear layers and be careful of sunburn.

For me, it meant school changes, orthodontic appliances and braces, joining the cheerleading squad, learning to drive, getting my first job shelving books at our local public library, graduating from high school, buying my first car, getting my first apartment, jaw surgery, serving at church, finding the mountains to be a source of strength, learning who I was, deepening my walk with the Lord, dreaming for the future, meeting my husband, getting married and moving away.

This loyalty to home, is it just because it was a place I loved and have treasured memories in? Or do the majority feel this way about their home city/state?

To be continued tomorrow ...

3 comments:

E said...

Hugs and prayers to you, dear Monica!

*carrie* said...

Right here with you, sister! Love you!

Kim Lottman said...

We sold the house my parents bought and brought me home to when I was born, two years ago, after my mom passed away. It's still hard for me to believe that someone else, someone I don't even know, is now living in that house. In some ways, it will always be mine, and it will always be home. That house is in the suburbs of Fort Worth, Texas, but I've lived in Virginia now for almost twenty years. Fort Worth, Texas is the home of my childhood, but Virginia is home in my heart. I'll be praying for you, friend!