Goodbyes

I know people don't like goodbyes, especially the big ones (not the daily, leaving-for-work, see-you-later ones). Why would you? You're saying goodbye to someone, entrusting their care to God, and not knowing exactly when you might see them again.

Every time I say goodbye to my extended family, I flashback to the last time I saw my brother. It was September 26, 1996. I had no idea it would be the Last Time. I said goodbye to him at the hospital, as his wife was loading him in the car to drive him to a radiation appointment. I hugged him and said I'd see him again in about six weeks for his wedding. (Sidebar: they had already eloped and not told anyone, and were planning the big white wedding still.) He got in his car, I got in mine, and we drove off down the road. I stopped for gas and they continued on past me, and I can still see his head silhouetted in the sun, with all the downy chemo hair sprouting on it. I remember it so well because I thought to myself that this could be the last time, but I was sure it wasn't. Exactly one month later, I got the phone call that he was gone. And, no, I wasn't there when he died. One of the great regrets of my life.

Now when I have one of those big goodbyes (usually not the daily kind), I always watch the person until they are out of eyesight, and I say a prayer over them. I watch them walk or drive away, and the moment is seared into my memory until the next time I see them. And ever since losing three-fourths of my family (Jackson, Mom, Dad), the person I do this most with is my sister. I have lots of goodbye moments seared into my brain from various airports in North Carolina, Germany, and Virginia. Because what if I lost my last one-fourth? Untethered is the word that keeps coming to mind.

And I never know when it's a Last Goodbye or just a regular goodbye. I know, I know... I could drive myself crazy with this. (I'm sure my sister is reading this and thinking I'm being melodramatic.)

Saying goodbye always makes me cry. That fear of loss that I keep at bay most of the time breaks loose and I start to cry. This morning when I said goodbye to my family, I cried as usual. Mary told me to stop crying, and cracked some joke so I would. My niece Hannah just stood there awkwardly, and Peyton made an "X" with her fingers and then drew imaginary tears down her face to tell me to stop crying as she was getting in the car.

My nieces don't get this, and I pray they never do.