A dear friend said goodbye to her dad today. He crossed the rainbow bridge after a lengthy illness. She told me yesterday that they were administering morphine. That’s the end of the road.
Death. It’s a concept that I grapple with a lot from time to time. It comes in waves. You file it on the top shelf and then suddenly it falls into your lap like an unwelcome jolt. And I immediately think of how I would feel if it were me. My dad or husband or friend. It’s not pleasant at first. But then the logical rational voice in my head gets a grip. We all have to go through it. It’s the circle of life.
The pain is real. Anyone who’s said goodbye to a beloved pet knows the acute ache of loss. The sorrow knowing that you’ll never touch or see them on earth again. That’s where the faith takes over. The firm belief that there’s a hereafter. A utopian resort where we get to hang out with our tribe (human and animal) for eternity. There’s a comfort in believing that such a paradise is waiting for us and our entry is met by all those who have travelled before us.
A few years ago we lost my husbands best friend suddenly. No time to prepare for the shock and crater in our life he left behind. His girlfriend was devastated; he was the love of her life and they were robbed of many happy years together. Poof. It was over. And she was desperate to have final words and a goodbye. Every time she found a dime or feather or some other object that convinced her it was a sign; a communication from beyond. It gave her comfort to know that the flesh was gone but the spirit remained.
I’ve told my mom that I know she will haunt me. She will rattle the windows and flicker the lights. We joke about it. But when the time comes I do really hope there’s a way to communicate and feel the presence. I think about Rudy’s parents every day. And it helps to talk out loud about them and remember the funny things. Just last night we passed a vintage Cadillac and Rudy said: that’s a Fast Eddie car (his uncle Eddie always drove big flashy cars). And we reminisced about Eddies car trunk filled with stolen goods he was fencing. Rudy’s dad would look out the front window of the house and see Eddies car parked. “Goddam it Eddie! I’ve told you not to park your goddam car in front of the house!” We laughed our heads off at the memory.
The memories we treasure reassure us that our loved ones are always in our hearts. Until we meet again.
Safe travels Nutsy. You will he missed. ❤️