What My Aunt Taught Me About Saying Goodbye

My Aunt Teresa and I have always struggled with goodbyes. Our eyes water, our voice gets shaky, we purse our lips to hold it all together — even if we’re just saying goodbye to someone for a few weeks. Or a few days. Even half a weekend can do it.

But where I always look away, feigning interest in something out in the distance to keep from losing it, rushing the goodbye (or even avoiding it altogether, slipping out the back door when possible), Aunt Teresa faced the goodbye head-on.

She looked you right in the eyes, no matter how welled up hers were, and she always, always went for the second hug. She was unafraid to show how much your absence pained her, and in turn, how much you meant to her. She watched you back out of the driveway, waving and blowing kisses while you fumbled to shift into drive, and you knew that you were cared for more deeply than you ever realized.

Before you knew it — even if you weren’t the tender-hearted type like my aunt and I — you might tear up too. Not so much for the act of saying goodbye, but for the overwhelming gratitude you felt at being loved so deeply, and being cared for so openly.

Every wiped eye, every quivering lip, every “you get home safe,” whispered the very same thing: You matter. You are cherished. You are worth it.

It’s one of the greatest feelings you can give another person.

Today, I say goodbye to Aunt Teresa, who, after a four-month battle with synovial sarcoma, passed away this December. Rather than having a traditional funeral, my family’s hosting a memorial service celebrating her life, filled with food, friends and relatives, all honoring the woman they love so dearly.

Unfortunately, my family lives more than 1,000 miles away, and I won’t be able to make it, but I knew I couldn’t slip out the back door on this one. I had to face the goodbye head-on, and take solace in knowing what Aunt Teresa and I have known in our hearts all along, with every goodbye we give: It’s not goodbye forever; it’s just a farewell for now.

I love you, Aunt Teresa, and I am so grateful for every moment we shared together. Thank you for showing me a better way to say goodbye, and for being an excellent example of a strong, empowered woman. You have shaped my life in indelible ways.

I know this is a heavy post for a site devoted to making each day a little bit better, but ‘better’ doesn’t mean lighter. It’s not about sweeping the heavy stuff under the rug, and ignoring the dark corners of our lives. It’s having the strength to face them, to choose to live meaningfully instead of going through the motions. To making each day matter. At least, that’s what I’m trying to teach myself, one post at a time.