The Final Goodbye

This time last week, I was getting ready to travel 350 miles to attend funeral services for one of my longest and closest friends.

I made the trip, and although not one I was at all looking forward to, was actually glad in a very weird sort of way that I had. It provided closure and it also allowed me to truly grieve.

The week following her death, while her family was recuperating in the hospital and some other college friends of mine emailed back and forth about the tragic accident, I didn't shed a tear. Each time I thought of S, it was as though a part of me just didn't quite comprehend that this had actually happened.

But on Sunday, when I got in my car and started heading to her hometown, I knew there was no denying it. In fact, when I got within 30 miles of her home, I subconciously started to slow down instead of going faster. Obviously now, in no hurry to get there.

The viewing was surreal. But it got through to me. She really was gone for good.

While I got a little teary, I didn't actually cry. Instead, I had trouble forming normal sentences. "I'll cell you on my call when I get" I told one friend, instead of I'll call you on my cell when I leave.

When J arrived, we talked for about an hour, reminiscing about parties we had all gone to, visits I had made, etc. and she said something that rocked me to my core. She said that she too, had not really accepted S was gone until she saw her that night in the casket. And all week long, she could hear S in the back of her head, cracking her jokes, saying her trademark phrases, etc.

The same thing happened to me. I would be thinking, "My God, S is dead." And then I 'd hear a phone conversation we'd had or remember a party in college we went to.

I thought it so strange we had both had the same experience.

That night, I spent some time with S's family, talking, eating, reminiscing. And it was actually a happy time. Well, not happy. Perhaps bittersweet is a better word.

The next day was the funeral. That is when it all hit me. As I walked out of the funeral home to the car, the tears that had been intermittently seeping out over the past 2 days, streamed. More tears at the cemetery and the last thing I wanted to do was attend the luncheon. But I also wasn't ready to make the 6-hour drive home just then either.

I went to the luncheon.

It was a needed release. Suddenly, thoughts were again taken up with more mundane details -- finding a seat, getting a drink, using the restroom. We ate and talked and laughed and a couple hours later I was ready to hit the road.

I said my goodbyes and left, wondering if this would be the last time I visited the area and S's family. And before getting back on the interstate, I took a detour back to S's neighborhood and drove past her house one more time. It was empty in more ways than one.

Since then I've been so cognizant in simple things that she will no longer experience -- a cool morning, a brilliantly sunny afternoon, hearing a favorite song on the radio, grilling and eating a juicy steak for dinner, sleeping in on Sunday and making pancakes at noon.

Its made me more aware of, and appreciative of, all aspects of life. Its also made me more aware of how fragile our balance really is in this world, and how there are no guarantees.