Photo by Brandon Wong on Unsplash

From the time my daughter was old enough to know the concept of the word friend until the age of twelve, she was best friends with the daughter of my best friend. The only obstacle to this four-way friendship was that our families lived two hundred miles apart.

When the Pennsylvania portion of the group came to Virginia to visit, we two moms dreaded their departure time, because Megan didn’t want to get in the car to drive home. I mean she REALLY didn’t want to say goodbye.

Both girls would cry and hold onto each other; it was painful to watch.

When you think about it, really, who wants to say goodbye? It can be sad even when it’s a happy occasion, such as your nearly adult child heading off for the first year of college. And when good friends are promoted and transferred to a city halfway across the country, we’re thrilled for them, but still so sad to see them leave.

When someone is too sick or too injured to recover, we may have an extended time to say goodbye. In other instances, people we love seem to be snatched from the earth—here one moment and then gone. We’re never ready, those of us who are left behind. No, we’re just not ready.

I wrote about death last July in a post called The Fallen. I noted that we continue to be surprised about death.

But the older you are, the more you tend to think about death. I’m not saying it’s good or proper to become fixated on the subject, but with age comes wisdom, so it’s wise to consider and plan for your own passing.

Recent events have prompted me to write my final post. Like Randy Pausch and his last lecture, I want to invest time in writing a post worthy of being my legacy. But in order to read it, you will need to commit to staying a member of my tribe for (hopefully) the next four decades.

Who knows what a Microsoft WORD document created in 2017 will look like in forty or so years? Will WordPress still be managing my website when I’m 100? Some experts predict that words will go away, and non-verbal communication will consist of photographs and videos. As a writer, I hope not. Even if I’m not around. Words are too beautiful to be lost.

The words of an Episcopal blessing remind me to make my point:

Remember that life is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who make the journey with us. So be swift to love and make haste to be kind. And the blessing of God, who made us, who loves us, and who travels with us, be with you now and forever.

Life IS short, no matter how long it is. Be kind, love one another, and gladden someone’s heart every day, even if it’s the heart of a stranger. And don’t be stingy with your words while we still have them. Say I love you, I miss you, I forgive you.

And don’t fret about saying goodbyes. In the words of Richard Bach,

“Don’t be dismayed at goodbye. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.”