It Is Never Easy To Say Good-bye

When each new year rings in, you wonder what the year ahead is going to be like. You make resolutions, you keep some, you keep some for just a short while, and some you never start. Life is about each new day and what you make of it whether you have resolved to do something, whether you plan to take the day by the horns and pull everything together, whether it is a day that just blows by – it is a day in your life and you should, no matter what, make the most of it.

This year didn’t start as I would hope. I lost almost four full months of the beginning of this year. I don’t like the ending of those four months because it culminated in the death of my aunt, Auntie. It was a heart-breaking ending. We buried her this past weekend. I would give anything to turn back the hands of the clock, but yet I will still cherish those four months. I spent almost every waking moment, when not working, with her by her bedside. I know in my heart that at least when she passed on to see my father, her brother, that she knew that I loved her very much.

Death is something that I don’t like to talk about. It is inevitable, but it is hard. Hard to explain, hard to understand, hard to take. I was reminded about it recently when my sister had said that her 9- and 7-year-old daughters would inquisitively, but hesitantly ask each morning if Auntie had died. They went to the nursing home to see her a few weeks ago and they saw the change in her physical form. They could also sense it in her mental state, too, I am sure. It was not like she could ever before run and play with them, but before she was able to talk to them easier. They loved the cookies she made. So, it wasn’t hard to understand the devastation they showed at the visitation at its conclusion when before we left when my niece Autumn had an uncontrollable hysterical crying attack of “I don’t want her to go.” Even as adults we don’t want them to go. It is hard to explain this “policy of life” to young children. I remember it distinctly when my dad died and my sisters, the mothers of these now young children experiencing the same thing, went through this.

My sister, Suzi, tried to console Autumn. When things had calmed down somewhat, I asked Autumn if she wanted to go out to say good night to Auntie. She and I and the other young girls arranged ourselves around the casket in prayer. I had to explain that we were saying goodnight to Auntie tonight, because tomorrow we will see her once again. I had to say that tomorrow, though, we would have to say our goodbyes but that we would have lots of memories of her and that those will stay with us forever. How do you really explain this to young children? You can say the words to kids but you also have to believe them yourself. Some may say it comes down to faith, and I believe that, but yet it doesn’t console me entirely. I/we still have to say good-bye and that is never, ever easy.

As I have said before, I have my faith, although it waivers occasionally, especially in times like this.

For now, it is easy to reminisce in our minds, to look at photos and to talk about “old times.” It doesn’t take away the hurt but it eases the pain a little.