Goodbye
It was the first time in my life that I just said goodbye. It was a goodbye without a promise. There were no assurances that we would visit again, call often or see each other “around.” There was no “see you again soon,” “we should have lunch sometime” or “maybe we can get together over the holidays.” It was an honest and raw departure.
The moment we saw a lighter schedule in our summer, Daniel, Kai and I jumped in our teeny tiny car and went on an adventure of love. Our “destination” was a little spread out on the east coast but each point held a person (or people) we love. While every stop was incredibly special, our first big family vacation wasn’t complete until we saw Super Gram.
One of my biggest pandemic fears, other than our own health, was that health and safety limitations on travel wouldn’t allow us to introduce Kai to his Super Gram. As my last living grandparent this hit me harder than I ever imagined it would. For the last decade and a half I have seen each great grandchild share their special moments with her. Thinking back on all the concerts, games, Sabbath School classes, trips and simple moments I shared with her, it is easy to see why she was such a big part of my life. She had worked so hard to be there for every major milestone in my life. I needed to make sure she saw me in my newest role as a mother as well.
It was a beautiful connection. We had moments of genuine bonding remembering the same relationship between us, and other moments of simply being ourselves in the same present appreciating something in common. When she acknowledged who I was I focused on the special memories she had given me. When I was less familiar we spoke of how nice it was to have the nursing home bird cage near her room.
While I didn’t know what it should look like for Kai, he was not interested in sitting at the table. But she watched him with a smile as he wandered the room looking for something he was allowed to play with. She laughed as Daniel kept up and informed him the many cords hanging to the floor were not put there for him to pull. There was a dog statue near the floor that was spun in many circles as the conversation continued. When Kai was outside playing we continued talking about how dizzy the dog must be. Hopefully whether or not a glimpse of that dog sparks a memory, I hope it brings an unexplainable smile. It was about at this precarious age that she stumbled upon me likely trying to pull things I shouldn’t during Sabbath School and my toddler tired mom and welcomed us all into her heart and family.
Some of our conversation was just on the reality of life. She lamented the unexpected 20 years lived without Gramps. I assured her that the hundreds of children she has helped cared for were touched in some small way by her service. She told me about her working career. I showed her updated pictures of the whole family. She said she never expected to live this long.
When the time came to leave simple things were said in the hopes that they were more likely to stick in our memories. There was no doubt in that moment that she was her and I was me and we were what we had always been, grandmother and granddaughter together. As we walked away waving behind us the quiet “goodbye” rang in the silence, lonelier than it had ever been knowing that any promise would have been found empty. But it was this pure goodbye that I was so scared to miss. For many the opportunity is not granted. As all will tell you, given the chance this goodbye should never be missed.
