Saying Goodbye

I recently visited my mother in Iowa. (July 7-10, 2011) Inevitably, at the end of the visit it came time to say goodbye. Mom is 88 and I am 59. We both know our time on the planet is finite and dwindling. Each time we say goodbye we know there is an increasing probability that this is our last moment together. It’s not a pleasant notion, but a realist has to acknowledge the truth, and we did so during our conversations.

And so our most recent moment of farewell was a little longer than the previous one. We hugged each other a bit more tightly, and a little longer, and we cried a little more than we used to. What bemused me was our mutual attempt to avoid the tears. Why do we do that?

It’s not like we were trying to hide the fact that we love each other; I did travel a thousand miles to see her and we were, in fact, hugging each other. Not crying, or crying a little less, doesn’t really make the moment any less emotionally painful. Saying goodbye to Mom hurts me whether I cry or not, and whether I cry or not doesn’t make it any easier on her either. She’d be hurt if I didn’t cry and didn’t care. So I don’t get it. Why don’t we just cry and express the way we feel?


Right now I miss Mom because of the distance that separates us.

Someday we are going to miss each other for another reason.

I hope it isn’t anytime soon.