Goodbyes and Marguerite

GOODBYES

How many ways can you say goodbye? With a wave of the hand, with a kiss blown into the wind, or with—my all time favorite—mighty hugs, to seal the deal as goodbyes are pronounced.

There are spoken goodbyes, grinned goodbyes, or they can be expressed with a melodic "tootel-loo" tossed over the shoulder as one rushes on. It is a fortunate person that catches a happy goodbye.

Then there are times only a gentle caress of a time worn hand or the feathery touch on a lock of hair hold all the meaning that words fail to provide, in final goodbyes.

"Goodbye" is one of those odd words with more depth of meaning than sensed on the surface. It was "Good" or enjoyable having seen you, and "bye" has the element of time connected to it, as in "the sweet bye and bye". So I may say, "It was enjoyable being with you and we will be together again another time.", and so we shall, my dear almost sister, when happily we share together in that "forever" time.

Heaven is singing in joyful welcome while I am praising in anticipation, and our Lord holds us both in the palm of His hand as I pray a loving goodbye.
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MARGUERITE~04/17/2010 revisited

With the spring season being reflected in the jonquil tint of her face—that is now tilted up in my direction—she is encountering another evening in the ninety second year of the winter of her life. Her eyes are full of disconnected slippery memories, yet they reflect a hunger so bold and deep for the grace to follow the day with a good night, for someone to kiss her cheek and make it right. Words still come but conversation is rare.

She says to me as I lean near, "I am the only one this way... I am". I silently cry, but simply reply, "Marguerite, you will be ok." Our glances lock and she begins, "There are three." She says with strength now and determination, and so I name the names one by one. She nods each time I mentioned a son. We speak of fried chicken, her room, and sunshine, with disconcerting words, using them in a casual way.

As shadows fill the room her head settles deeper into the dimple of her pillow, and her gray-tan hair forms a tight cloud around her head as she voices the lament that has tormented her for many years, "I can not see your face." I hold her cup and she draws a sip, then our hands clasp and I feel the warmth flowing through her nimble fingers. Fingers so talented, just a few yesterdays past they were on the ivory keys playing melodies though the titles are long forgotten.

I feel a squeeze or a trembling pulse within her grasp, it is time to say goodnight. Her golden hued eyes (deeply died from her disease) are closing and merciful sleep overtakes her. I watch the covers gently rise and fall.

Sleep well Marguerite,
May God bless you with rest.
Remember your dreams, and may
They come true.
Love you.
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Lord may I remind you of your promise, in Psalm 5:11
and add to that verse 12 please. Thank You.

Early this morning May 10, 2010 on this, her Mother's birthday, Marguerite went home to be in her heavenly Father's presence and Melvin's arms, as other family gather. The celebrating will go on forever!