The Art of Saying Goodbye

My mother and I liked taking long walks once a week. It wasn’t really for exercise. We loved them because you could chat endlessly about private matters all while enjoying the natural suburban beauty that couldn’t be found in the city. These walks were especially stunning mid-Autumn, the time between being surrounded by pure green foliage and completely bare trees.

I wasn’t sure if she would be up for walking with me this particular Sunday because it was my grandmother’s first death anniversary. Still, I figured I’d give my mom a call and see. I was concerned that perhaps the colourful scenery would be too reminiscent of the walks she used to take with her mother and grief would overwhelm her. I wasn’t especially good at dealing with grief. I wasn’t sure that anyone was an expert, but I did regret the way I had dealt with loss in the past. While I was waiting for my mom to answer, my mind drifted to another time.

When my grandmother passed away, I had buried myself in work. I had avoided my mother because she reminded me too much of her, and we had stopped walking. I had been very close to her. She had so much wisdom, I had always felt that no matter how old I got, I could never attain the experience that she had. She had told me once, before she had passed – no matter how much work you have, or how busy you keep yourself, don’t forget to spend time with the people you love. Of course, I had done the opposite when she left us. I had cut myself off from everyone, became a hermit, and spiraled into a mild depression. Stolen time. That’s what it had been. The grief had shocked me into such a state, that I had allowed it to steal the time I had in front of me. It didn’t hit me until my mom had called me one day to say that she was sick. She had been diagnosed with what she had said was a very beatable form of breast cancer. My depression would have returned if she hadn’t reminded me – let’s not let this thing become a thief of our future. So I started walking again. I walked for my mother on the day she had no energy. I walked for my grandmother and let my mind slip into the past, remembering all the time we had shared together just hoping that maybe, if I could replay these memories indefinitely, maybe I could get the hours back. But deep down I knew that’s not how it works. Time is one of those things that only moves forward.

I snapped out of my daydreaming when my mom had agreed with tons of enthusiasm that yes, of course we should go for our walk. In fact, today is gorgeous! We don’t know if we’re going to get another day like this any time soon, she exclaimed over the phone. I gathered my things and changed into clothes that would be comfortable for our miniature hike. I noticed that I had my mom’s old running vest, which I couldn’t fathom why because she loved it so much. She would have never willingly given it up, but I shrugged my shoulders and put it on thinking I’d give it to her when I saw her.

When I got to my mom’s house, she was already waiting at the bottom of the driveway in athletic wear I hadn’t seen before.

“Where’d you get those clothes?” I asked, curiously.

“No idea, I probably bought them years ago and forgot they existed,” she laughed.

I smiled, “Don’t you want your fancy vest back? I found it at my place, I have no idea why it was there to begin with!”

My mom just half smiled at me and shook her head, “We can’t hold onto these things forever, you keep it. It looks good on you.”

I was surprised. My mom had always been a bit of a fashionista, and this vest was definitely a staple piece for her. I guess maybe she had outgrown it.

“So, how are you feeling today?” I asked, as we began walking down the street, the leaves crunching beneath both our feet, like some kind of soft percussion.

“I’m feeling grateful. I can’t believe it’s been a year, but I’m glad I made the most out of the time I had with Grandma. It was never a dull moment.”

“That’s a lovely way to look at things…” I trailed off because I suddenly felt a wave of immense guilt. I continued, “I’m sorry I shut you out when she passed. I couldn’t deal with the loss, I suppose. I lost a lot of time feeling despair, and I can’t imagine how you felt because it was your mother.”

My mom squeezed my shoulder and said, “There’s no manual on grief, unfortunately. No one teaches you how to say goodbye. But your grandma always used to say – the best way to grieve, is to continue to live. And that’s how I’ve been trying to deal with it. It doesn’t come without lots of tears and pain, but I would hate to lose out on life. We can go any day.”

She was right. The pain of losing someone close to you was indescribable, but to let it swallow you whole and spit you out into a ball of nothing, that was much worse. After all, I’d imagine my grandmother wanted me to have a long, fulfilling life.

“That’s a great point, I guess wisdom runs in the family!” we both started laughing.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice yell my name – Sereena!

I turned around so quickly, I was surprised I didn’t get whiplash. The wind had caused my hair to blind me, but I shoved the strands to the side hurriedly and saw my best friend Michelle.

I walked over to hug her, “Hey Michelle, didn’t expect to run into you here!”

She smiled, “I heard you laughing from a block away! What’s so funny? Are you listening to a podcast or something?”

I was confused, I was clearly with my mother and wouldn’t have earphones in when I was with company. I laughed, “What do you mean? I was just talking with my mom.”

Michelle gave me an odd look which morphed into something else. There was a mix of sadness and understanding in her eyes. She stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug and then said, “Sereena, your mom passed away two months ago.”

Michelle must have been crazy. I had just had an entire conversation with my mom, and she was right here. I glanced to my right to prove that she must need to get her eyes checked. There was no one beside me. My heart instantly fell to my feet. The Autumn wind swirled around us and gave me a rough blow to my face, and the memories I had been suppressing rushed into my mind making me feel dizzy.

Michelle caught me before I lost my balance and said, “I’m so sorry, Sereena. She was sick for a long time. I know it hasn’t been very long, but you have to let all the feelings in, even the awful, devastating ones.”

My eyes welled up in tears and I began to sob, “I just – I’m just not ready to say goodbye. I’ve been walking with her for the past two months to make up for everything I had done wrong.”

I could see that Michelle felt immense pain watching me like this, but I hadn’t been able to accept my mother’s early passing.

She just looked at me, “You can’t get the time back, but you can feel grateful for all the time you have left.”

I sighed and started walking with her back to my car. I know my mother would’ve wanted me to make the best out of my life and move forward. She’d always said the same thing after I had gotten out of my depression – don’t let life pass you by.

That’s the thing about time. Once it’s gone, you have to say goodbye.

And that’s the thing about goodbye, no one’s mastered the art of saying it.

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