I Wasn't Ready to Say Goodbye

Originally Published January 26, 2021

My heart has been tender, and my mind blurry as I've navigated these past weeks. Sadness and joy, anger and impatience, laughter and tears; disbelief still. They are intertwined within me as I build a bridge between what my mind knows to be true, and what my heart feels and can't yet believe or reconcile. I am floating in the in-betweenness of love, loss, and grief, bouncing like a random buoy on life's waves as they ebb and flow with the tide. I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

It happened suddenly and I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

She was strong and vibrant, independent and feisty. She was happy. She knew who she was and what she stood for. She was my Aunty Pat. One moment this ... the next moment a stroke ... and then a second. The potential for stroke lurks in the shadows of our lives, of our minds ... and you never know for who or when it will attack. I wasn't ready. "We" weren't ready.

My Aunty Pat was supposed to live to the old bitty age of 100. She died on January 8th. Our last conversation was a short text on January 5th. I've read it every day since, and know it wasn't my best goodbye. I never imagined it would be our last, yet here I am. Here I float in the in-betweenness of love, loss, and grief finding my way through the fog, with a small part of my heart wishing I had done better with our last goodbye. And yet, my heart also knows ... it would make no difference. I simply wasn't ready.

And so I wonder. No matter the circumstances, are we ever truly ready for that last goodbye? Is there a chance we'd never wish for one more day, one more conversation, one more hug ... one more goodbye?

My good friend Jo-Anne reminds me often to be "good with goodbyes". All goodbyes. Make them right with our hearts so that if ever it's the unexpected last goodbye, it was a good one. Make sure all your words are spoken, all your love shared. Leave no room for doubt. Say what you've gotta say, love who you've gotta love, extend your appreciation for those you care about. Let them know what they mean to you, what you love and enjoy about their presence in your life. Be honest. Be kind. Slow down. Pay attention. See, hear, and love.

Doing these things will help us with that last goodbye, even if we aren't ready. As I reconcile the death of Aunty Pat, I do so knowing we saw each other, appreciated each other, and knew how important we were to each other. How important we "are" to each other. Despite this, my heart wasn't ready.

This death called me to look back on all the others, my brother, my dad, uncles, aunts, friends, and cousins. Truthfully, I have been witness to far too many, gone far too soon. Yet today, I am grateful for my tender heart. I am grateful knowing that I will never get used to the heartache of this messy in-betweenness of love, loss, and grief. To me, this means I continue to love with everything I have and feel just as deeply in the here and now. This means I will never be truly ready to say goodbye - and for my heart, as tender as it is in this moment - that's quite okay. It simply means I am surrounded by the richness of love from people who matter most, and who I want more time with.

Yes, these losses have taught me, and continue to teach me the importance of right now, showing up, and investing all I have in my hellos ... my relationships ... and even more importantly the best of myself in my goodbyes. It is this that also leaves me never being ready for that last goodbye. To love fully means you will never be quite ready for the last goodbye and you will find yourself in the messy in-betweenness of love, loss, and grief each time someone you love dies. The depth of our grief equals the depth of our ability to love.

My tender heart knows that no matter how many goodbyes I shared with my Aunty Pat - it would never be enough. Just like there could never be enough time together - never enough deep rich conversations or debates, never enough shared laughter, wisdom, glasses of wine, or love.

Yes, my heart has been tender and my mind blurry. I wasn't ready to say goodbye, and yet ... in an odd way ... I'm so very grateful that I wasn't.

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About the author:

Karen Hendrickson is an Elevation Coach, focused on helping others to rewrite their life story, befriend their mortality, and find the richness and magic that lives at the intersection of our lives where life and death meet. When we allow our authentic self permission to shine our life becomes full of MAGIC and GREATNESS.  Contact karenttjourney@gmail.com and start working with her today!