The Long Goodbye

June 17, 2016

Dearest Solomon,

It’s been a hard week this week on lots of level, least of which being away from home for the past few days. Sadly, one of the things I had to do on this trip was pay a visit to your great aunt, maybe even grandma — Aunt Rosie. She’s not well.

Aunt Rosie is very special to all of us. She was the oldest of your grandpa’s siblings and she basically raised him. As they say it, he was her favorite. We spent lots of time by their house when we were growing up.

Aunt Rosie has an amazing family, and boy is it big! There’s 49 of us first cousins and a huge chunk are hers. Honestly, I won’t even attempt to name them all — I’d likely mess it up. I spent maybe 4 hours there with your grandma. All of her daughters were there helping to take care of her, taking turns with anything and everything. That’s what family does.

But we weren’t there to catch up. Aunt Rosie’s heart is failing slowly. She’s having a hard time breathing. She was in the hospital, but they sent her home because there isn’t anything else that they can do for her. It’s a hard thing to handle. Even harder to accept.

Grief is a very difficult thing. As your Aunt Rado said, there’s two camps in the house — those who accept what’s happening and those who are in denial. Everyone does their best to stay strong, to not cry in front of her as it only makes her feel sad as well. It’s not perfect, as you might guess and every so often someone pulls away in tears. It’s quite sad and there’s nothing you can do about it.

When I first saw Aunt Rosie, they asked her if she remembered me. Sure enough, she said “Degree” as she has always called me since I’ve been born, in her sweet accent. I was happy to see her — I worried I might not have made it. As we sat together, she touched my face many times. I couldn’t quite tell if she was remembering me, or maybe, just maybe, remembering your grandpa. I don’t know, but I was happy if either was true.

There’s something strange being with someone knowing their time is near. It’s a splinter in your mind, you can try to avoid it, to distract yourself, but it never stops being there. The sadness is palpable, it weighs heavy on us all. Even more so, I”m sure, for her loving children.

We chatted about when your grandpa passed away. I’ll share that story with you some time, but just know that it happened fast and was unexpected. When it happens, it feels like the worst thing in the world, leaving you completely devastated. But now, looking back, you come to realize that this isn’t the worst.

Sometimes you lose someone you love quickly, other times it’s not so quick. And that can be infinitely more painful and challenging. It’s not that we want to ever see them go, of course. But when someone is sick, especially if they’re sick for a long time, it’s hard to have to see them suffer. It’s hard to know what to say. It’s harder to know what to do. It’s hardest to know how to feel — everything feels turned upside down, inside out. Unfortunately, you just have to wait. This is the long goodbye. All we can really offer is the kindness, comfort and respect they need and deserve.

When I showed her your picture, she took the camera from my hand and kissed your little face over and over. She always loved kids and she had loads grands and great grands even. I’m glad I got to see her. We’re going back together in August and I told her I’d bring you to see her. I’m praying she’ll be able to give you a kiss in real life too.

We don’t have a choice about who we lose, son. We don’t have any control over how they go. We don’t have any control over when they go. The only thing we have is the time together — make the most of it, don’t look back, don’t have regrets.

Love Always,
Dad