Saying goodbye

I needed to write something. So I did.

We are born alone. Our first breath is our own and no one else’s. Our little lungs spring to life as we are welcomed into arms that love us. But we are lucky in birth for we have a mother whose body surrounds us and protects us, easing our passage into the world and waiting to comfort us the moment we arrive in it.

We die alone. The last breath is a breath we take on our own, and after that…I have to believe that we are welcomed into arms that love us. I think perhaps what is so hard about losing someone we love is the helpless feeling of knowing that in those few moments, we could not provide a seamless, un-solitary transition into the beyond.
I have never had a chance to say goodbye to someone before now. What a strange blessing it is. To know that the last words you spoke to someone were words of an uncomplicated love, that he looked last upon the face of love.

I say this all pre-emptively. PaPa is near the end of this life--how near is uncertain-- but the truth of it is circling our hearts…and his. We say goodbye every moment. With every touch, every whisper, even when we don’t know what to say.

My grandfather’s line is one that has been broken and scarred, fragile and fierce, secrets and unspoken words littering the genetic make-up it seems. I know this. I have seen the battered hurt in my daddy, the furrowed brow I’ve always tried to make smooth again. But this is not the family I have known. From my earliest memories, PaPa has been a gentle, affectionate grandfather, never a harsh word or a begrudging look. He has softened even more in recent years, “I love you’s” coming easily and simply. What, perhaps, he could not give to his own sons, he gave in abundance to his granddaughters, and perhaps more so to his grandson. That is the PaPa I have known. Even here at the end, his firm grip on my hand and the slight smile makes me sure of his love. Loving someone is a blessing, perhaps even more than being loved. I’m so happy that he has loved me in such a pure and uncomplicated way.

My tears came freely tonight, but they were not even tears of grief or fear or uncertainty. They were tears of relief….of joy. How lucky are we to be able to say the things that needed to be said. How fortunate that we are able to give PaPa the gift of hearing what he needs to say to us, like “I love you” and “You’ve been a good son.” Perhaps this is as close as we can get to deliverance, to taking his hand and leading him into the next place. I can’t help this feeling in my gut that this is what we are meant to do.

These moments are what this family needs, the chance to speak what has been unspoken. It makes me realize how fortunate I am. If I were to die tomorrow, there would be no misunderstandings between my family and I. I am loved and I love. No questions or stipulations. No complications or conditions. Life has been complicated. Love has been certain. There is no need for words that have been spoken every second of my life.