How Many Goodbyes?

I listened closely to her soft voice as she related the changes that time and absence had made for her. She wasn’t complaining, just relating her plans for Thanksgiving, but I heard the hurt in her voice as she tried in vain to find something uplifting to say. Finally in exasperation she shook her head and whispered, “Everything’s changed since Glen passed.”

I suddenly realized, she wasn’t just missing her husband who passed away almost two years ago, she was watching everything around her pass away as well. The failing eyesight of the aunt who had made Thanksgiving dinner for so many years, the illness that had taken her husband and had now crept into the skin and bones of other relatives, changing them, changing the way they love, the way they see, the way they celebrate. She was watching it all with clear eyes, listening with functioning ears and unable to stop the slow deterioration of life as she knew it.

I listened carefully and wondered, how many goodbyes has she said without Glen to stand beside her? How many times since he slipped away has she missed his comforting arm around her to help her with the myriad of continual change and loss that happens as we age? How many goodbyes will she continue to force from her throat in the effort to never let it stop whatever God has for her as she remains to support the next generation? Seventy-two isn’t that old, she has a lot of years to watch her grandson’s success and her son and daughter change lives with their talents and gifts. She will undoubtedly be forced to choke out a few more goodbyes.

As she finished the details about how her daughter and son-in-law were planning to celebrate the holidays, I asked her what her plans are. I knew her son was out of town and her daughter lived in another state. She smiled and with unabashed joy replied that she and a friend were going to be serving at the shelter downtown. “We’ve done it before and I had so much fun!” I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as I heard the delight in her voice.

As we said our farewell she wished us a happy Thanksgiving and I replied, “You too!” She smiled and with eyebrows lifted, nodded and said, “Oh, I will!”

I was still burrowed into my thoughts of the losses she has encountered and how it visibly pained her. I thought about it a lot in the hours after she was gone. The simple answer is to never allow anyone to get close enough, to never be attached to traditions and relationships. I want to be “whole” if I lose someone, I don’t want to be torn apart by it. I know though, that simple answers aren’t always realistic or intelligent. The more I thought about it, the more I acknowledged that her pain was not regret at all. She didn’t sorrow over what closeness had done to her, she sorrowed that she wouldn’t experience it again with that individual. More importantly, she was looking for more. She continues reaching out, continues to give, love and laugh with everyone around her. She looks for ways to encourage, she thought through ways to keep others going and to interrupt the self-pity that she saw threatening them.

We can comfort ourselves as people of faith, believing that goodbyes to loved ones are not final, but we cannot deny the pain of their loss. I am more convinced than ever that the secret to remaining strong through so many goodbyes, is to continue saying “hello.” Who will we meet, who will we encourage, who will we draw close to and find that comfortable rest of relationship we have enjoyed with others? We can’t know, unless we are willing to open ourselves to the risk of more goodbyes.

She knew the risk, but she jumped anyway. Her frail hands and soft voice have rubbed a soft spot into my heart today. I’m thankful for the relationship I have with her and I am encouraged to continue looking beyond what I know and to offer people beyond my small world the opportunity for relationship.

If I do this life right, there should be many, many goodbyes involved.