Monday, December 26, 2011

the long slow descent into goodbye...

why do these people think a bunch of guns and a basement full of spam will save them from the end of the world?

gifts are done, food is eaten and the return to normal in my living room has begun.  i'm not yet at the point of pulling down the ornaments and lights because their annual sparkle havent' quite lost their meaning.  but i'm ready to bid farewell to the end of year holiday season once again.

i got a text, actually an email that showed up on my phone as a text, from my brother wishing me merry christmas.  i texted my son, and i think i might have posted something on facebook.  i received quite a few christmas texts this year.  i don't mind them at all.

in comparison, i spent christmas eve with scott's family around a fire and a tree, exchanging gifts in the form of stories which only we could appreciate and boxes filled with trinkets that didn't mean so much as the sentiment that we were thinking about one another.

when scott's mom died, we wore her favorite color, blue.  everyone did.  there was a bond in that family that is alien and oddly fascinating to me.  i watch them push and pull with their feelings and emotions but in the end they remain tightly wound in each other's lives.

traditions that were started as children are cherished and honored.  they light candles for relatives who are no longer there.  and when everything is said and done, they linger with meaningless topics not wanting to say goodbye.

but isn't that the result of every hello?  aren't farewells inevitable?

somewhere along the border of georgia and tennessee, in mountains that probably hide militia groups awaiting the end of the world, i realized something.  i realized that there is a reward to saying goodbye.  just as death is the comfort from a life of suffering and pain, the moment when you get see someone again is the shining light which makes the darkness of departure go away.

scott's family are those people in those apocolypse movies who spend their last moments trying to get to their loved ones, not to prevent the inevitable, but to comfort and be there for each other as it happens.

No comments:

Post a Comment