The goodbye you never want.

18 Sep

I’ve been trying to write this for a week i guess, but now that I do it’s too late and God alone stands witness that it shall never be a good time again. I never liked goodbyes, the worst of all still bear the “last” before them.

It is indeed beauty in life, especially when you realize how fragile and small it is. Nevertheless, it is never insignificant. No matter the amount of joy and laughter in it, it still ends in tears…or at least it should, a friend to laugh with you, a friend to cry for you…and this is what matters in the end…it matters who remembers.

My goodbye goes to our dear friend Jan, a dad, a teacher and a good entertainer. Now a shadow. A shadow still in his last days, though i didn’t see him, else i would have said a proper goodbye, or at least cry…both good enough. I did learn something from him, even so. He came at peace with his disease and embraced the nonexistence that loomed over. He knew his time is near and he said his goodbyes.

No matter how many miles stay between you, the last goodbye you hear. A whisper, a cry, a simple word or just a thought. You’ve said tem, and those who they’re meant for know you did.

This kind of scenario actually gives you time to get used to the idea, to exchange a few last words and recall a lot more memories…but it’s a long and painful ride too, a constant fight to find something that would end it well.. oh fools that we are, only the great silence ends it well, the rest are mere failures… I can’t judge the amount of pain in it, but my dearest people died that way and I’m to be subjective. How painful is it to hug someone and fear you’ll never see him again? The worst part is waiting for it to happen: “maybe today”, “he won’t make it through the night”, “please, make it tomorrow”…

However, it happened the other way to. No time to think, no time to talk, I could only hear a mother’s cry then. Her pain made her shiver and scream, for she lost her only daughter. Around us the air was filled with whispers compared to her cry. Angry words or not, they were goodbyes underneath all the vowels.

Silent goodbyes, like my own.

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