Holiday Review 4- Saying Goodbye

I have two great aunts. Both have been on this Earth for more than 90 years. Both are ready to leave. When they said goodbye to me over the break, it wasn’t the “see you next time” goodbye, it was the “see you on the other side” goodbye. It was very close to those exact words. We were at my parent’s house after lunch and doing the gift exchange.

One of them, the older of the two (Nellie), well, I hadn’t been prepared for how much she had deteriorated in my absence. She can no longer hold up her head when she is standing. It was at my parent’s house that she started saying her goodbyes, she in a recliner lying down and I at her side kneeling. There was nothing for me to say. Anything would seem trite. I did what I could and I’m not sure how to explain what I did. I held one her hands, kept my other on her head, kept eye contact and…exuded as much love as I could muster.

Watching my priests I’ve learned that there are times when words fail and that I should be comfortable with not having to resort to mere words. Mary hugged me before my wedding and I felt a strength and love that mere words failed to convey; Gil simply sat and listened as I talked of my Grandmother when he took me through the burial rite, and I felt a comfort and a closure that I would lack without presence. Presence is underrated and perhaps it should be more often distinguished from mere closeness.

We should have been walking out. We had two other households to visit that day but I couldn’t bring myself to go until I felt excused by her; I was with her for 15 minutes and it seemed to be just me and her in that house. At times everyone else was completely blocked out. My mother couldn’t hear anything that was going on between us, but she said my aunt looked more at peace than she had been in a long time. I left her with a blessing.

…And then there was the younger aunt (Mable), who was struck speechless (and she is not often speechless) by my incredibly simple gift.

What could I have said? “Keep fighting!”? No, that just shows my own selfishness. Part of my silence was to avoid saying “go with God.” They want to go home and they are both occupied with thinking about Heaven (whatever that actually is). Their own apparent eagerness to leave this world shows me how I should feel about their own passing when it happens: joy. I’ll be pained, certainly. But I can imagine their joy and I am strengthened.