Saying Goodbye

I cannot imagine all the feelings you must be experiencing having just said goodbye to your grandma. Though you escorted her to a plane, we both are aware the more reticent goodbye is soon to come. And I feel for you. I’ll freely disclose that I’ve felt like I’ve been saying goodbye to someone my whole life. Anticipating someone’s end can be a gut wrenching, heartbreaking thing to do. When I was thirteen, my parents sat me down in our living room, informing me that my older sister had a malignant cancerous brain tumor. I’ll never forget how I felt climbing the stairs and entering the bathroom where she’d been bathing (at any other time it might have been strange, my joining her in the bathroom) and shaving her legs. Our conversation was fragile, as doctors had explained to my parents that it would be unlikely she’d live six more months. I ached to make every word count.

Twenty years later…she’s still alive, she’s still here. The word “here” can be argued however, because she struggles with mental illness and addictions that are life debilitating. That’s a story for another time. My point is that even before her cancer diagnosis (for undisclosed reasons) I learned to await death as though it perched on my doorstep present as birds singing in the morning. I grew skilled at anticipating.

Almost a year ago my dad got the call that the spot on his lung was a 9cm. tumor. Cancer, again. And yet, he lives. He walks daily. He engages in conversation when I call on the phone. Pneumonia and other pesky signs of cancer have cropped up. It’s there. Waiting. And I’m here, waiting.

But I don’t live in the wait. Will my sister die? Yes, someday. Will my father die? Yes, someday. Will I die, absolutely (waiting for you, Jesus) someday. Until then, let my life be known for breathing, for delighting, appreciating and basking in the glory of what’s been given and not what will someday be taken away. Just as surely as we all die here; someday we’ve been blessed with the chance to live THERE. And in the meantime, to do a little livin’ down here.

I’m feeling for you, my friend.

Until someday. Living today.