One Last Goodbye

You’re in pain,

And I’m sorry.

I didn’t cause it,

Can’t absolve it.

I hate seeing you hurting.

Hate watching, helpless,

as you close off from the world

and those who need you.

Hate seeing the spark he so loved

seep right out from your soul.

Just know that I’m here

When you’re ready to talk

Or need a shoulder to cry on.

To reminisce over happier times

And sunny days.

How his eyes crinkled

When he told a joke.

How safe you felt

Wrapped in his strong arms.

How right it seemed

Spooning together through the night.

I know your house cries empty tears now.

If it’s any comfort, I miss him, too.


Note: When I wrote this, I was thinking of an older lady/friend of mine, who lost her beloved husband to cancer last year. Sometimes even our best intentions fall short, and all we can do is be there, when of course we’d prefer making it all better!

18 thoughts on “One Last Goodbye

  1. Ah, that temptation to “fix.” I think one of the hardest lessons to be learned in life is that some things can’t be “fixed,” like a simple repair to a stove. When I was growing up, I often heard the phrase, “Come here, and let me make it all better.” A kiss and a hug (and maybe a bandaid) and I was on my way. Making it better gets harder, as life gets more complex.

    • Linda, what you’ve said takes me back to when Domer was a little guy. I used to tell him, There’s magic in mama’s kiss. And he believed me! Little boo-boos can be kissed away, but big ones — like heartbreak — sadly, cannot. Thanks for empathizing. We still want to make everything better, though, don’t we?!

    • Thanks, Katybeth. It’s hard seeing someone you care about hurting. We so want to take away their pain! However, I know you’re right — just being there, and not necessarily saying a thing, is sometimes the highest form of sympathy. I appreciate your encouragement.

    • Thank you, my dear friend. Realistically, death comes to every family sooner or later (and I know you understand this, probably better than most). Providing comfort, though, is very hard. Perhaps we’d do better just to sit with the grieving person in silence and let them draw strength from our presence??

  2. Beautifully written, Debbie! When I first starting reading, I thought it was a piece about someone writing about a breakup. But then after reading your “Note” it totally took me by surprise.

    Again, beautifully written, my friend!

    • I appreciate your taking the time to read and comment, Ron! I kind of felt I needed to add that note at the bottom. Otherwise, I suspect lots of people would think this was a breakup (which would be a lot easier to handle than something as permanent as death, huh?). Have a super rest-of-the-week, my friend!

    • Bless you for saying this, Audrey! She does indeed tell me how fortunate she is in having me close. I’m just blessed to have a resilient, sunny nature or stuff like this would have me down in the dumps!

    • Thank you, Janna. I usually do, too. This one came to me just as I was drifting off to sleep, so of course, I had to get up, find something to write on, and capture it before it poofed off into nothingness!

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