I’m not good at good-byes. Because we weren’t made to say good-bye.
“Don’t say good-bye, say see you later.”
That’s what my Mom would say when we headed out of the house for school.
Or anywhere for that matter.
See she taught us not to say goodbye.
But to say, ‘see you later’ instead.
Because we weren’t made to say good-bye.
And when I would say See You Later to my Dad, he would jokingly say, “if you turn around, you can see me now”, lol.
He just had a sense of humor like that. Always cracking jokes…
Always trying to make us laugh.
I remember him making a joke before getting a procedure performed to install a port for chemo.
“Isabella dressed in yellow. Went to town and met her fellow.”
The day he passed away, I remember the hospice nurse telling me that he was in active stage of dying.
I’d never heard those words. And I didn’t totally understand what they meant besides what they meant.
I remember feeling so numb.
I didn’t even know that there were different stages of dying.
Transitioning from this life into eternal life.
Grief is hard. Because we weren’t made to say good-bye.
My family and I stayed by his side that night. All silently wondering with each breath, if it would be his last.
And because I’m not good at saying good-byes. As I believe, none of us are. I told my Daddy “good night” before heading out. And told him how much I loved him instead.
Because we were never made to say good-bye. God’s original plan had no farewell—no final breath, day, or heartbeat as Max Lucado puts it.
I received a call in the middle of the night from the hospice nurse saying that Dad was gone. And that he had transitioned peacefully.
And I’ve never really said goodbye to any of my loved ones that have passed from this life into Heaven.
Because I know with assurance that I will see them again.
Because we were never made to say goodbye.
