Last night, I tried to sit down a create some sort of schedule for the next 30 days. What I would talk about, things I needed to share, etc. And I couldn’t do it. Apparently, this series is going to follow the same jumbled, all-over-the-place, pattern my mind and life has been following lately.
So today, I’m going back. Back to what was most likely the hardest thing I will ever have to experience while on this earth.
Saying Goodbye.
"There are no good-byes, where ever you'll be, you'll be in my heart." – Ghandi
Goodbyes are never easy. Whether you’re parting ways with a spouse for the day, dropping a child off at camp (or at university), or even saying good bye to a person you used to be, it always requires steeling yourself a little bit. The goodbyes get harder though, when they’re going away for a longer while or when you know there’s a chance you won’t be seeing them again.
And when you know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you will never see that person again, that all of those expectations of the future you had built up will never be met, it’s difficult to let go.
Every second you spend with them is a second that the pain of separation is held off, but in your heart you know it’s coming. You fear it’s coming. Even though you want to make the most of the time you have, it’s hard not to let your thoughts be consumed by your anxieties about that moment when you must release them from your arms.
There is obviously something very wrong with handing your son over to someone, knowing they will never return to your arms, never live the life you had dreamed for them.
I remember that time. I can run the entire night over in my head, but one of the feelings I remember the most is the desperation I felt when we were getting ready to leave the hospital. We knew, from the second he was born up into my arms, that there would come a time that we would have to leave him, even though every instinct we have in us as parents rebelled against it.
No parent will ever say “I had enough time”. It doesn’t matter if you lose a baby at 8 weeks gestation, or you lose them at a year old, you will always feel robbed. Focussing on the time you DID have with them, the blessing of even carrying and loving a child, can help ease the pain some, but you will never willingly accept the fact that you had to say goodbye.
You have allowed me to suffer much hardship,
but you will restore me to life again
and lift me up from the depths of the earth.
You will restore me to even greater honour
and comfort me once again.
Psalm 71:20-21
Our last photo (although we said our goodbyes a couple of hours later after just cuddling and loving on him some more).
1 comment:
One of my most famous authors is Kahlil Gibran. His words have often comforted me.
In his book, he says, “Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
How true is that? You don't know the depth - the true, heartbreaking depth - of your love until you say goodbye.
Goodbyes are so, so hard.
xoxo, B.
Post a Comment