Goodbyes

SOTD: How Can I Help You Say Goodbye

One of my favorite teachers from high school died unexpectedly in a car accident two nights ago. It’s the fifth loss I’ve experienced this year. To say that death is on my mind would be an understatement. 

They say you die twice. Once when you take your last breath, and again, a while later when someone says your name for the last time. I find great comfort in this because as long as I’m alive, I know those I’ve lost will continue to live on in stories and memories shared. 

What really gets me is the overwhelming amount of love and adoration that is shared publicly after someone dies. It’s always so beautiful, but my heart breaks a little that the person most in need of these kind words and thoughts can no longer receive them. I guess I feel like it matters more to say those things while our loved ones are still alive and not just when we are processing our grief. And I think I’ve always felt this way. 

With my teacher, I had the serendipitous opportunity to reconnect in real life about a month ago while spending time with another friend on the patio of our favorite Mexican restaurant. After about an hour of glances and overheard drink orders, Marty got up and walked over to me; he said “I know you, don’t I?” And of course I said, “Yes you do.” He had forgotten my name, but not my face or my time in his classroom. He was also aware that we were Facebook friends who shared a mutual world view. We acknowledged that we appreciated our shared roles as good liberals; something that mattered a great deal to us both. We chatted for a moment and then he returned to his friend. A few minutes later we were all enjoying shots of Don Julio. There was great music (courtesy of Marty) and lots of laughter. And I’ll tell you something, my first thought when I heard the news was how incredibly grateful I was to have shared that afternoon with him and our friends. 

I’ll continue to send hand written notes to people I care about. I’ll continue to support friends on social media. But in the next year, I want to become the friend with whom you always know how important and treasured you are. I want more face time and less screen time. I want more phone calls and less text messages. I want to be known as the friend who shows up. 

When I die, I want people to say nice things, but more than anything, I want to know your favorite memories, and to make a million more, while I can still appreciate the feelings that go with those things.