We bade farewell to someone special over the weekend, an elder in the family, and in my case an in-law. She lived a long and good life, filled with love and family, music and fun, and a faith in God that undoubtedly provided great comfort in the end. I won’t go into more detail, out of respect for the closer family members, and because my words seem useless right now.
We flew across the country to say our final goodbye, and to share a few more moments with her in this life. We made it just in time, roughly 36 hours before the final breath. Many other family members made the journey as well, from across generations and many miles. We fly back in a couple days for the memorial service.
So much of life involves just saying goodbye. Goodbye to homes, neighborhoods, schools, jobs, classmates, colleagues, friends, family, people. We do it over and over again, and then over and over again some more. We say goodbye to childhood in our own way, then young adulthood, then every phase of life until we finally say goodbye to everyone and everything.
I have read that people know when the final goodbye is upon them. It might be sudden or it might stretch out for years and years. But there will come a time when we all know, we all know, with certainty. And then we let go.
When you reach a certain age, the goodbyes become fewer because there simply aren’t that many homes, neighborhoods, life stages or people left.
My father is the last one of the elders on my side of the family. He turns 91 this week, still going strong, still cutting up and cracking wise, still quick with a laugh, walking on his own two feet, and exercising regularly. This is a blessing we give thanks for every day.
He has spent a lifetime saying goodbye – to his youth and all that represented, then his hometown, then his parents, close friends, uncles and brothers. I wonder how Dad feels, knowing he’s the final holdout before the mantle of “elder” falls on the next generation, my siblings and myself.
I’m sure he thinks about it. I’m also sure he doesn’t dwell on it. Life is right there in front of him. He’s smart enough to embrace it, each and every day.
*****
I have blogged before about a habit I’ve had since college. When I move into a new home, I take a long long look at it – the walls and floors, rooms and windows, rugs and carpet and ceiling. I take a moment to soak it all in, etch that image in my mind. Because this will be the first and last time the home will be new to me. In the coming days and weeks and years, it will become familiar, as mundane as a ticking clock.
But….
At some point I’ll say goodbye to the home – maybe many years down the road, maybe only a few months (it’s happened). When I do exit for the final time, I try to conjure up the original image, when I first moved in, and had no idea what experiences lay ahead. That’s when the home becomes anything but mundane. It becomes another life experience, one that you might cherish or might regret but will never forget.
There have been a lot of these goodbyes. If my math is right, I have lived in 25 different homes since leaving college, in 12 different cities, in seven U.S. states, and two countries on two continents. Many homes, many goodbyes.
I’ve said goodbye to people I will never see again – many people, people I’ve loved and people I’ve only shared space with, who have either passed on to the next world or will never enter my life in this world again. I’m guessing you have, too.
Sometimes we say goodbye, then hello again, then goodbye again. This is not uncommon. Plenty of people have left a place, then returned, then left again. But at some point the goodbye will supersede the hello. The goodbye always has the final say.
Sometimes we say goodbye to flesh and blood humans, only to say hello again to digital versions of those humans, then goodbye (again) to the digital version. Here’s an example:
When I joined Facebook several years ago, I came back into contact with people I had not seen in decades – plenty of them. We stayed in regular contact on Facebook (digitally speaking). We shared bits and pieces of our lives and experiences. We even shared a few genuine feelings.
But I left Facebook earlier this year, for reasons I detailed in an earlier blog. When I quit Facebook, I quit most of those digital relationships as well. When you depart a social media platform, your existence gets wiped clean – all your posts, comments, photos and thoughts. Those things cease to exist. You cease to exist.
I will probably never interact with 95% of my Facebook friends again (excluding family). I said goodbye in a final post, but that got wiped clean, too, so it’s like I never said goodbye, or hello, or anything else. You die on Facebook when you leave it. But really, you were never alive on it to begin with.
*****
We spend much of this life saying goodbye. Too much of this life. Goodbye is such an inadequate word. It’s so shallow and weak. I mean, it works fine in certain situations, like at the end of the workday, or a night out, or after watching a ballgame or movie together. It’s fine for these occasions.
But a final goodbye? A last gasp goodbye, to someone or something you’ll never, ever see again, whether you know it or not?
Goodbye falls short of the mark.
Maybe farewell works better. Fare. Thee. Well. That’s a nice sentiment. It wishes you well without necessarily committing to an end of the relationship.
No, not that either. Not farewell.
Not so long
Or adios.
Or au revoir.
Or ma’a salama.
Or zài jiàn, tschüss, sayonara, aloha, totsiens, adéu, khoda hafis, etc.
I googled all those, by the way.
*****
Life is a series of goodbyes, one long series of goodbyes. The moment you are born, you start the process of saying goodbye.
It’s a sad thing, but a natural thing, and something we all have in common.
But it’s not the important thing. The important thing is the hello, and the moments that followed. We hold on to those. Those, we cherish.
Goodbye is not the point. The point is all the time between the “good” and the “bye.” Make the most of those, and your life will have been truly well lived.
Note: “The Long Goodbye” is the title of a favorite Raymond Chandler novel. But I’m guessing it was part of the lexicon long before he said his first hello and final goodbye.
Vance Cariaga 