Priya+Mansukhani+2014

Act of Letting Go I don’t know how many times I have heard the phrase “Let go.” Whether it be on Tumblr, in a book, randomly graffitied on New York tunnels or said to me by my overly dramatic friends, I have heard it over and over and over again. It’s really only two words. And when you say it, and when you hear it, it has a ring to it. Let…. go. Its so easily said, rolling right off your tongue. When in reality, the actual act of letting go is such a difficult task. Its not as simple as it sounds like, as it appears to be. I don't know many things. None of us really do. When we walk through a sea of people, theres not much any of us have in common. But, there is that one tiny chain of ideas and feelings and thoughts that links us together. Part of it is that each of us have been through something. Yeah, some of us have it worse than others. But, some sort of hardship sets deep within our personal lives. Its that thing that everyone has their own story. It’s weird to think that every person at some point or another in their life will have to let go of something. Some people have dreams, dreams that occupy their thoughts the minute they wake up and are the last thing they think about before they sleep. But circumstances can be such that the dream that they have worked towards, that every move they have made and every breath they have taken so far has revolved around that one dream, has to be given up. It has to be “lettin go of.” Or its that love of your life. The person whose happiness is your happiness, whose attention you crave, whose touch every inch of your body yearns for, whose voice is music to your ears. And that love of your life has broken your heart, and the only thing you can do is let go, so that you can move on. I guess for me, its a mixture of a bunch of things. I’ve had to let go of a dream that was impossible to reach. Just unlucky. I’ve had a heartbreak that I’ve had to let go. Just bad timing. But what really occupies my heart, my mind, my soul is letting go of my dad. He is gone in the sense that he just isn’t alive anymore. But its his presence, his love, his thoughts, that still remains, I know that now. For the longest time after his death, I didn’t grieve. I did but… not as much as I should have or wanted to. It passed me over my head. It was the first time I ever lost someone who meant more than life to me. I lost my best friend, my dad, my sweet hero all in one. One minute there and then poof, he’s gone. Magic. I was clinging to him. With every part of me grasping onto whatever remained of him. I did not want to accept the loss. I did not want to acknowledge that simply he was dead. If I did that, it made it real. And when it is real, now thats when my world would fall apart. To let go, is hard. It really is. I could not bring myself to do it. I kept telling myself to release it- the idea that he was still there, downstairs, waiting for me after school, like he always was. No no no no no no no. No. He was not. But the minute I would let go, what would that mean for me? I would be set free of the loss. My heart would feel lighter, more feathery, less shadowed. But I didn’t want that. Its weird, but my sadness of him going, was all that was truly left. It was the one thing of him that I still had with me, that I could feel. If I let go of my sadness, set him free, I would have nothing. It took time for me to realize this, but its not that I would have nothing. Its just that by letting go of all the grief that came with losing someone I loved, I would be left with the memories that only bring back happiness and love and hope, and him. Its hard to let go. Letting go means moving on. It means stepping into unknown grounds again, being vulnerable and open to getting hurt again. It is scary and painful and heart-breaking. But really, it is giving yourself a chance to feel again, and just setting your heart free, giving it wings to fly and experience love of all types, all over again.