Saying Goodbye

Dearest,

I never got to say goodbye.
You left before I got home.
You casket was closed before I arrived.

I never got to wonder through your house,
Memorizing the sayings on your walls,
leafing through the books on your bookshelf.
Or smelling your favorite incense one last time.

I never got to see the random bits you kept tucked away,
Like your favorite type of pen from your junk drawer
Or the shoe that wouldn’t unclip from your exercise bike in your basement.

I didn’t get to hear the stories your friends shared as they packed up your belongings,
Each item reminding them of a time you laughed or an adventure you went on.

I wanted to laugh with them.
I wanted to cry with them.
I wanted to be near you again.
I wanted to know you more.

I will find my own ways to laugh and cry.
To allow memories of you to linger.
To bring you to life as I share stories of you with those who love me.
To tell anyone who will listen how you made me feel.

I will say my own goodbyes,
As I drink the ginger latte I made for you before I knew you were gone.
As I cook the meals you never got to order.
As I train for the bike ride I had hoped you would ride alongside me.
As I hold a candle on the shortest day.
As I pilgrimage to your favorite mountain town and hike the trails you loved.
As I read every one of your poems to shared with the world.

These aren’t the goodbye I envisioned.
That is another dream I must grieve.

As you said your final goodbye
I hope you felt held and free.
I hope you felt peace.
I hope you felt my love.