How many memories do you have of waving good-bye to your loved ones, as they leave to go home or leave for an adventure? I have scores myself and until May, my most memorable good-byes were in airports wishing safe travels and spilling plenty of tears as I say good-bye to love. Or putting my Grandmother on a Greyhound, because, well, Christmastime has come to its end and it is time for her to return to her world. Countless, countless memories: and as I recall them, I see in my mind’s eye, me standing and waving—and though standing with family, feeling alone—understanding that I don’t know when I will see you again, but I already miss you desperately; trying to keep a tight hold on the visit and in my heart: to keep you with me as long as possible. In May, something changed; the tables turned. I went home to bury my Mother and with that came a rush of family—most elderly—and those whom were not, were jaspers doing jigs with everything from each other to pogo sticks; singing songs of sixpence and flying with the wind; or observing a potato bug as it finds its way to a patch of lilies. Even as I read my Mother’s eulogy, I heard the sound of hot tamales shaking in the mourning room: yes, my 9 year old great-nephew had found his rhythm. I was home for almost 3 weeks and it was a flurry of going. I thought often of my youth; when my parents were alive and the activity that would occur when family came into town for holiday or graduations or family events in general. I remember how we would all come together to see Uncle Frank or Grandma. And how all bets were off for us children, to go and do things with our little friends, because never would we question why we were to show up to honor and create one more memory before they left us again. Because in truth? We were never sure if we would see them again. The night of my Mother’s funeral, I sat with my brother in his living room. We were recalling all of the family times which made us laugh; the quirks Mom and Dad possessed that always tickled us as children. It felt good to still laugh with someone about them—someone who knew them as well as I did. And then my brother looked at me and said, “You know Rob, we’re the oldster’s now. You, Sis and I are all that’s left.” I knew what he meant. Yes, he had his family; our sister, Donnette, had hers and I had Gary. I hadn’t thought though, that we had turned into the old Aunties, we have adored our whole life; our Grandmother, where we would drop anything to greet her and the Uncle Franks… the Uncles that were
an adventure, if it meant we were only sitting under the old Maple tree in the back 40. And when he said that to me, it was as if the color of my world slightly changed: blues were bluer; golds were richer. And for the rest of my visit I noticed family gathering to see their Auntie, Robin. It was as if, one book had ended and its had sequel squalled up in the most natural way. One evening, we went for Chinese and when I hugged my nephew and his wife good-bye, I said, I will see you next year. He immediately pulled back and said, nah, we’ll see you again before you leave. And sure enough, I saw him and his beautiful family every day while I was there. I spent a lot of evenings with my brother, sister and their families while I was home. Everyone gathered to make their memories with me included, because I am not down there that often. Evenings and days I will never forget. Nothing extraordinary—just dinners, hanging out in gardens and catching up…bringing each other up to each one of our lives to date. It was as important for them as it was to me: to know when it was time to go home, I would leave with some gold dust in my hearts pocket, all from our time together again. It was the night before I left that struck me. Surreal and real, I was leaving my brother’s home, before returning to my Sister’s. Because I needed to leave in the early AM, it was our final good bye. As I got in my car, I rolled down the windows and yelled out, I love you. They yelled it back and when I drove away, I took one more look and what did I see? My brother and his beautiful wife standing and waving, waiting for me to be completely gone from their sight, before they turned their back and walked back into the house. It struck me; my heart seared with memories then and the acute awareness of making one now. It was then I felt I was my Grandmother welling up on the Greyhound; or my Uncle Frank—heading back to Bonanza to resume his rock hunt. I realized the honor of being part of a family; the honor of being treasured and the greatest, having loves to treasure. I wish I had known that when I was a youngin’ saying good bye to my loved ones as a child. We may be standing in the same moment, but our experiences are vastly different and often quiet while being epic. It’s astounding, really, and I couldn’t be happier to understand something new: Something that had never crossed my mind before and yet was with me all along. Some people say old age is like your golden years; some people disagree with that assessment. But, if understanding the love given from those standing on the porch, waiting for you to disappear from that moment as they wave with love… I’m looking forward to the journey.