A thousand goodbyes

For nearly a decade we said goodbye.

Death did not claim her instantly,

Instead he took her hand – slowly, Deliberately and dreadfully, yet somehow gracefully, So we could say goodbye.

A thousand times.

We shed a tear for every sliver of herself she lost each day. Each day as she would fractionally dissipate.  Each day, another memory we were forced to hold. Each day another story we expected to unfold, drifted off into the untold, becoming not but a whisper, an echo lost to time.

She became an unravelling thread being measured and trimmed by unseen hands. While each day we wrestled with our own mounting burdens of dread with both heart and head weaving and unweaving tapestries of grief.

We looked at our futures, shattered, trying to pick it up, refigure, reshape it; Piece by piece.

We imagined; Speeches at weddings. 

We imagined;  Her holding her grandchildren, watching them grow into the bold men and women that her legacy would inspire.

We imagined;  Her growing old and that each of these stories would have someday been told.

Our mother. Their sister. His wife. Her daughter. For nearly a decade she became less of each.

For nearly a decade we carried her more and more  as we mourned more and more. We carried her sentences to their end. We carried her stories, all her who’s, what’s, where’s and when’s. We carried her precious jar of coins so she wouldn’t loose it. Again! 

Under a crushing weight of memories we were never meant to hold, we bore up as Atlas, holding her sky above her and buried every word she uttered deep within our souls, Clutching every last pearl she would let us.

We carried her fear.

We carried her joy.

We carried every story until we had to watch her be carried down one last story of stairs, wooden planks creaked, releasing their sighs under the fragile weight of her body for the last time. 

Now, we carry-on.

We carry her heart.

We carry Her legacy.

Her love, her charm, her wit.

We carry her creativity and curiosity, her resilience and the incredible ways she could color the world whatever color she wanted.

Forever we will carry every silver lining we can pick from her sky left behind by her waning.

For bitterness or sweetness, death took her hand slowly.

We said goodbye a thousand times as these words of hers were etched on our souls;

“Open your eyes and see the light”

“Yep too”

“They flew by and decided they were alive”

“Ting Ting.”

“I’ve forgotten who I am but I’m happy you’re here and we’ll call it beautiful.”

Authored by Zachary James Johnston