The Last Goodbye

During the last few days, the Kerrville floods, the overwhelming loss of life, children, husbands, fathers, brothers and sisters taken far too soon, has caused me to reflect on a single moment that I have spent years processing through my own grief-journey - the last goodbye. 

I can't help but imagine Moms or Dads dropping their kids off at camp, little feet squirreling impatiently as they wait through the registration line. Little voices squealing as they notice their friend has just arrived. The tensions of keeping an 8 year-olds feet close by, while Mom runs over the details of packing; did I remember her toothbrush, swimsuit, towel, store money? How is she going to do without me? He is going to have so much fun! How am I going to spend the week? Swirling thought after thought, as Mom or Dad wrestles between the responsibilities of sending an 8 year-old off to camp and the ball of first-day-of-camp energy crying out to be unleashed. 

Then the moment comes. Cars are unloaded, cabins have been inspected, 8-year-old attention is at full throttle on friends new and old and the coming week. The moment of goodbye is quick, almost stolen in all the chaos and excitement. Wave-wave, kiss-kiss, maybe a look over the shoulder as you part ways. That moment, so passive, that single, solitary second that wisps by, suddenly becomes of great importance when we learn the ones we love are not coming home. It's one of the first thoughts we have as shock turns to denial, then reality - when was the last time I saw him? 

It becomes a central point of conversation, the first thread of many memories we pull as our hearts and minds grapple with our last interaction becoming a final goodbye. Our last sighting, our final goodbye, is seared, as though with a hot iron, into our memory, leaving an open wound, raw and stinging with every recollection.

Saying goodbye is something we do every day, multiple times a day even. We wave, we give a smile, a peck on the cheek, a side-hug. Maybe it was a harsh word. Sometimes we are present in the moment, often times we are not. We say goodbye so often to so many people, under so many circumstances, that we don't even think about it. 

As we cry and we grieve with those who are suffering unimaginable loss, when the conversation turns to, "When was the last time you saw him?", be present. Engage, and let the one who is sharing go on as long they want, because the sharing of their final moment is helping them come to grips with what is happening to them. You are helping them begin their healing process. One day, a long time from now, the sharing of their own stories and hearing the last moments others shared with them will be a healing balm as the searing pain turns to joyful memory.