i didn't sign up for goodbye

it was a day of hellos and goodbyes.
the arrival of my dad.  and the boys last day of school. 

it was also a day when mike and i said out loud what we both feel quietly inside- that our life these days can seem overwhelming.  that the ambiguity around rosie's exact place in our lives is tremendously stressful, that it's hard on all six of us to live in the limbo of who we all are to each other.  are we preparing to be real true forever siblings, parents and child, family of six? or are we forever fostering someone? the up-in-the-air-ness, the unknown-ness is an added complication that we didn't expect could be so hard.

it was a day when i was called by the woman who took care of her at the orphanage for 7 months, then i turned around and bumped into our lawyer in the coffee shop, a day when we realized that for all involved we need some resolve- we need clearer boundaries- we need cultural sensitivity to go both ways- we need respect and also decision. it was a day when the thought of deeper hello's or some form of goodbyes - felt needed but also enormous and scary.

i wasn't prepared for a life of goodbyes.  i'm bad at them.  don't like them.  i avoid them- internally and externally.  when we moved to uganda- we had a lot of goodbyes.  i geared up, toughened up, faced the music and did the best i could- but i still said a lot of cushiony things like- "oh, i'll see you soon!" or even, "i'm sure i'll see you one more time before we go." when i usually didn't.

once we got on that plane- i figured i was done with goodbyes.  that i'd moved into a season of 'hello's'.  how wrong i was.  the life of the expat is full of loss, and leaving, and being left and saying goodbye.  but i didn't sign up for goodbye.  and it sneaks up on you.

after our long morning of coffee and intense life discussions, with the ironic near constant interruptions by rose and zoe, we went to the end of the year assembly at the boys international school.

let me just say i was not prepared.  i was expecting light and breezy and i got heavy and torrential. because they all get it.  they know the importance of goodbye.  of ceremony.  of saying it out loud, processing it, acknowledging it,  and hugging that elephant in the room- of endings- grieving- bidding farewell.

it started with a song and it ended with a song.
it started with 'one more step' by sydney carter.

One more step along the world I go,
one more step along the world I go;
from the old things to the new
keep me traveling along with you
 
Give me courage when the world is rough,
keep me loving though the world is tough;
leap and sing in all I do,
keep me traveling along with you





oh dear.
i could feel that full and painful feeling of mounting tears. because the world felt rough and tough and i needed courage.  i wanted to keep loving and leaping and singing and traveling. i wanted to be full and not broken by it all.  all the life of life.  all the 'hellos' and 'goodbyes'.  with all the clarity and confusion and subtext.
i sat listening to it- holding rosie on my lap- surrounded by my 11 month old community- and my 3 month new sort of child, while zoe, who will be joining this group in a few months, who i've known for lifetimes, sat in the bunny pen on the other side of the wall, playing with her furry friends, knowing in her heart that this was about more goodbyes, as last days always are, and knowing she's had enough of that. 

i bit my lip.


but then came the last song- the song that undid me.  the song called 'sing' by gary barlow and andrew lloyd webber.  and even though i'm not leaving, even though my kids will be back in a few months, it was the sum total of all the goodbyes that i never expected here- it was ongoing sense of homelessness- and the transience of life.

Some words they can’t be spoken only sung.

So hear a thousand voices shouting loud

There’s a place, there is time in this life

When you sing what you are feeling

Find your feet

Stand your ground

Don’t you see right now the world is listening to what we say.

Sing it louder and sing it clearer

Knowing everyone will hear you

Make some noise,

 find your voice tonight

Sing it stronger,

Sing together,

Make this moment last forever, old and young shouting out tonight

 

We’ve had a lifetime to wait

And see a thousand faces stand afraid

You are hope

You are light

Know it wasn’t always easy

Stood your ground

Kept your faith

Don't you see right now the world is listening to what we say

Sing it louder and sing it clearer

Knowing everyone will hear you

Make some noise,

 find your voice tonight

Sing it stronger,

Sing together,

Make this moment last forever, old and young shouting out tonight

Some words  can not be spoken only sung.

To hear a thousand voices shouting out.

And on and on.

Just sing

Just sing

Just sing

and i wanted to sing, to just sing.  but i couldn't because i couldn't stop crying- and neither could this new community around me- all of us, those staying, those going, those who've been saying many more goodbyes for many more years than i have, all of us undone.  because it's hard and poignant and deep, as soul stuff always is. 

because some words are too hard to speak, or too hard to speak over and over.  sometimes they are just said better when they aren't just words- but when they are strengthened by notes, and tones, and the sounds that speak more, that reach deeper, that the limits of our words. 

some things need to be sung.  things that hold both the beauty and the sorrow in life- the hellos and goodbyes of life.

today needed to be sung.

no good at goodbye

it was the first of july- and my last day of work.  i'm not good at last.  i'm not good at goodbye.  i'm good at first- i'm better at hello.  lately my life feels like a lot of lasts- and lately,  it's been creeping up on me.

friday, i had clinic, my last clinic. and friday, mr r. was waiting for me when i got up to clinic.  he is also a writer.  he had written two poems and that was pretty much why he was there- to share them.
so i'll share one too.

'the world changes every day
this i know is true.
it doesn't matter what you may say,
it's all about what you do.

if you only go around to criticize
the things others try to do-
your life will be built of only lies
because you have to contribute too,

it's not what this person or that has done,
when everything's finished and through
if you can't greet the morning sun
having done all that you can do'

love it.

the next guy was someone i hadn't seen in 18 months- one of my first patients at the VA.  a relatively young guy with parkinsons disease- who comes to clinic with his ex-wife. another one of those women who give and give and care- and take care- of these guys- just because it's the right thing to do- just because no one else will.  i love this- it teaches me.  it reminds. it is right.

then i got a message from my next patient apologizing for missing his appointment- because he is in the hospital- because he's in the icu with an arterial clot.  badness.  but he thought to call, and cancel, and to say goodbye.

then a new patient with pancreatic cancer.  a vietnam combat vet who grew up with 10 brothers and sisters barefoot in the countryside of the deep south.  a man who'd made wise choices to overcome things.  a man who knew his character and chose to be true to himself even when that was the harder thing to do.  a guy who chooses peace- a guy who lets go.  i had to say both hello and goodbye, and thank you- because he reminded me of things that needed reminding.

then mr. w.  my dear old mr. w.  mr. w who i wanted to say goodbye to.  mr. w who i'd been looking forward to seeing all week.
he didn't show up for his appointment.  so i called him.  he is not getting out of bed.  he is full of fluid. he'd missed his appointment 3 days ago to get the fluid tapped- there were transportation issues- even though he lives with someone- even though he is on hospice.  and it just made me so sad.  it just pushed my buttons.  for some reason- all the sad of my leaving and all the sad of letting go- of this job, with these vets, in this place, and all the sad of everything became all wrapped up in mr. w.  and while talking about his case with a colleague- i began to cry- just a little- just teary-not the ugly cry.

and then she said that thing that you never want to hear when you're teary and hoping not to really loose it- she said "i know you have so much on your plate right now- and that you're so tired..."
no! don't do it!! don't acknowledge my overwhelm! don't call out all the junk i'm bringing to the table!
doh.
so i got a little more teary- but then i pulled it together and set up an ambulance to go get mr. w and bring him in so we could tap the fluid and get him home to louisiana.  i had to call his son and tell him the plan- and that i was leaving- and that i wouldn't be around for the family meeting that needed to happen- because i'm moving to africa and this was my last day.  and it just sounded absurd coming out of my mouth.  he thanked me for all i'd done- 'i 'preciate you- we all do'. 

i got called from oncology to go see the patient who has eyes like my dad- he wanted to say goodbye- but i didn't.

and then to torture myself even more- i called mrs. b- to check on her and her husband.  but i couldn't do it- i couldn't say good bye.  i will call again next week- from boston- maybe from africa- i just can't say goodbye.

friday afternoon i got a card from my 'fellow'.  a woman i've trained for the year- a woman that i've coached in how to talk to people that are really sick, people that are dying.  she has watched me talk to patients- prescribe medications- and has run her plan by me for each of her patients all year.  it was a beautiful card.  a keeper.  it was thankful and praising- and it made me feel worthwhile. she is good at goodbye.

saturday morning we got up early and cleaned and packed and left.
we drove 18 hours to boston- the five of us.  18 hours away from what was 'home'.

and while driving somewhere in pennsylvania, i found out that mr. w never made it to the hospital that night.  he called to tell me the ambulance didn't come, and that he was hungry- and could i get him something to eat that wasn't too spicy.  and i was so mad.  at the system.  at the negligence.  that after a lifetime of neglect as a homeless veteran, he wasn't now treated with ultimate respect. that what i'd set up for him, hadn't happened.  i made calls, i made it happen again, i told him to go to the hospital- his son would bring him, the team would be waiting. 

i still didn't say goodbye.

today we arrived. new england.  mikes parents home.  the house i've come to for the past 22 years- my closest home.  sitting outside, not on a porch, but a patio.  the night is growing around me and the neighbors are playing basketball- otherwise it's quiet- no tree frogs.

it smells different than georgia- more earthy and less sweet.  my kids are watching a movie with their cousins. we've drunk some wine and had lasagna.  it is good.

but i'm here in new england to say more good byes.  and i'm no good at good bye.

i'm just not good at goodbyes.