The Long Goodbye

Every parting is a little death. When a dear neighbor moves away. When my niece flies back to Germany at the end of her summer vacation. When I walk home after dinner with a friend.

Then there are the long goodbyes. Goodbyes that begin when spouses cradle their dying wife or husband; when children watch their mum or dad take their last breath or a mother is burying her child; when a friend’s cancer metastasized beyond control; and when fur parents hold their beloved pet whose life is slowly drifting out of its paws.

Those are the goodbyes when bouts of sadness creep up on me out of nowhere with excruciating force. It is a sadness that overwhelms me when I am actually focused on something else: When I am driving in my car watching the traffic around me. When I am walking through the aisles at the grocery store doing my errands.

I don’t mind crying. But sometimes when I am grieving it feels as if a deep, bottomless crater opens up and each tear is nudging me closer to the edge, threatening to plummet me into a never-ending fall.

In those moments I am forever grateful for someone just sitting with me in silence. Someone volunteering to be the guardian of that bottomless hole, a human safety net that allows me to sob. No talking. No comforting touch. Just their presence to anchor me outside of the abysmal pit.

When I grieve, I do not want to hear words of consolation. I do not require the promise that everything will be fine. I just want to mourn my loss, shout out my pain, and process the fact that I will never be able to touch my loved one again. That I will never hear their voice again. Never smell them again, never see them again.

I know eventually all sadness will be purged to make room for gratitude – a deep and honest thankfulness to have had the one I lost in my life.

I know eventually I will be able to embrace arising pain as it more and more transforms into welcome memories.

I know eventually I will smile and sigh blissfully whenever I remember them.

But first I need to mourn.

Grief is the token of a great love once lived. It is the seed for kindness, peacefulness, joy and compassion. It is a sprout that can only be watered with tears.

Brigitte Schneider
aka Ms. Teary-Eyed

Copyright © 2021, Brigitte Schneider. If you wish to quote text from this article contact the author by leaving a comment.