I have said a lot of goodbyes.
A few the gut wrenching, final farewells which only happen in death. If
you’re young enough, you are lucky you haven’t had to crawl and scratch your way out of that
kind of pain.
We all experience those temporary good byes, from our first
day in kindergarten, to kissing and hugging our own children as they venture
out on their first date and then, too soon, on their honeymoon. All of us clutch tightly, cry, afraid to let go, worried, yet hoping in our excitement that
our goodbyes to our loved ones are, in
fact, temporary.
There are the hurt and angry goodbyes. You know the ones. “I
don’t ever want to see you again. Goodbye!”
These, too, I have said at one
time or another. Even if I haven’t
voiced them aloud, there have been times I screamed the words in my mind at night, alone, in the dark, for no one to hear, because I didn’t have the courage to voice my
threat aloud.
And then there are the “Vaya Con Dios,” “Go with God” good byes. These brandish
the sharpest edge. The keen blades of
these farewells draw a line in the sand, as if it makes its mark in blood ... not knowing
if the farewell will be temporary or final, but knowing we must let go, we need to let go, yet dreading the act.
It's best to say these goodbyes
while I'm still strong enough, knowing if I wait, I will be too weak, too far gone, too breathless to form the words and push
them from my heart.
So, I wrench out the
words, “Thank you for the memories,” and I whisper, “I wish you well in your
journey,” while at the same time my want to stay cuts deep. The days pass and I imagine my body and soul bleeding out, wasting
away to dust.
But as sure as good byes are the click of the lock, the
slamming of the door, or the light in the window, they are only a disguise for
new beginnings.
I turn around.
I put my back to the door and see the candlelight stretching through the window pane, across the road ahead. That
is the way. Scary but exciting, it is the way .... not the comforting chair behind
the door I shut.
Each state, each town, and each campground, with its gurgling river, shifting surf, or vast forest lands lures me to stay, to relax, and give up on facing the uncertainty of new adventures. But I start the engine and step on the gas. As Thoreau once said, "How vain is it to sit down and write, if you have not stood up and lived?"
Today with my back to the door, I face new thunderstorms and
lightning to find my place in the sun. They ignite my energy and spur me onward. Life is about living. During
the final hours on one's death bed, the soul struggles and fights with a fierceness that brings the watcher to tears.
Don’t wait until you are too weak. Fight with a fierceness
now, before you are too weak. Show the world how to live, and it will rejoice.
Click on the link below to find out more about Judy's books.
The thrill of The Indianapolis 500 has fed the spirit of thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies for decades. I know the race of all races has already been run this year. But there is another thrill waiting for you to at Indianapolis Indiana this July, which 80 % of you have dreamed about but not dared to experience. 
