On not saying Goodbye

Around 2 weeks ago I was messaged by a friend letting me know that a mutual friend was in the hospital. Things were bad. Very Bad. This friend hadn’t let anyone know that she had been diagnosed with liver cancer, and her health had deteriorated faster than I suspect she thought it would. She was dashed off to the hospital. There was a lot of activity, determining what else was wrong (too much) and in her moments of lucidity (not many, it sounds like) trying to determine how she wanted to proceed.

Nature took over, and her failing organs made the decision that she was unable to verbalize. She has been shifted over to hospice care, and will remain in the hospital until she passes, which will probably be sooner than later from what I am being told.

I had wanted to head down to see her. To sit with her for a bit. Maybe laugh for just a minute about the extent she would go through to get me to visit. But yesterday’s conversation with a mutual friend that is down there put things in perspective. She’s not there any more. Everything had moved quicker than I expected. There wouldn’t be the “goodbye” that I’d be looking for.

My last visit with her, we visited an artists open studio, and then set the GPS to get us home. Instead it sent us on a meandering side road where we spied this amazing cemetery. We both were enthralled and drove in, wandering around taking photos, and apologizing to all the dead people we were walking on. It’s a good moment to have in my memories.

Instead of goodbye I’ll settle for the “Miss you already 😍” text message that she sent about 30 minutes after I started heading home from that trip. Miss you already, too.