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Author, Historian, Storyteller

Live and Learn, LossView all 2 comments

I haven’t been able to write since my aunt passed away ten days ago. I’ve tried, but haven’t liked anything that has come of it, with one exception. Two lines keep repeating themselves:

Remember me in the strength of our last hug goodbye,
In the “I love you” as we fought back the tears in our eyes.

I got to say goodbye and give her one last hug. Tell her that I love her one last time. I will remember that moment for the rest of my life. It was the most important thing that I did all year. It is in that vein, and in her honor, that I recount the best things that happened in my life in 2014.

1. I was given the opportunity to say goodbye.

2. Published my first children’s book.

3. Wrote my 2nd children’s book, and got half way through #3.

4. Sold my first piece of jewelry that I designed and made.

5. Took definitive steps toward the completion and polishing of my Civil War novel.

6. Found clarity and solidified my long term goals for my life’s work.

7. Learned how amazing and supportive the people that I have chosen to be in my life really are.

8. Vacationed with friends and my sister in Alaska.

9. Reconnected with old friends in Colorado.

10. Made it to 2015 with my sense of humor intact and high hopes for the new year.

 

In Loving Memory

Margaret Lucille Michels

2/1/56 – 12/21/14

Life, LossView all 3 comments

How is one supposed to say goodbye? Is it for a couple of minutes, hours, days, weeks, years or the rest of your life time? We never really know when we utter that simple phrase. It could be any of the above. Life is fragile and ever-changing. But how do you say goodbye when you know in your heart of hearts that it is indeed the last time? The last time that you will see their face, the last time that you will feel their hug. Do you hug a little tighter, a little longer? Do you look them in the eye when you tell them that you love them? Do you linger and prolong the exchange or turn your back and walk swiftly away? What could possibly be enough? What can possibly be done to fill the gap, the void that you know will soon exist as soon as the door closes, the car turns over and you drive away.

Because there is a void. A great black void that you try not to think about, try not to look at, try not to imagine having to fill again. How can you fill it again? It belonged to them, and they are now gone. Is the goodbye supposed to help fill that hole? Be a patch, a bridge to get from one side to the other? You don’t get the person, you get the goodbye. That last moment that you know you will remember until the end of your days. You have memories of course, but none of them are stamped so indelibly on your heart, because in all of the other memories you believed that you would have more. More times to cherish, more laughs to share, more time to be had. You always believe that there will be more time. Until there isn’t.

And then you’re left trying to figure out how to say goodbye.

Goodbye