The Shape of Goodbye

The Isolation Journals prompt for this week is to “write a goodbye you wish you’d said, or need to say.”

Over 34 years ago my little brother was lying in hospital, dying from cancer. I was living and working overseas, with 3 young children and a 4th on its way. My husband knew how much I needed to spend time with my brother and sold his prized possession, a Kawasaki motorbike, in order to finance the trip.

I stayed in Canada for 3 weeks, taking the night-shift vigil at the hospital. Most of the days were also spent at Ron’s bedside, along with our other siblings and regular visitors.

Still in my 20’s I had very little experience saying goodbye to loved ones who were dying. I didn’t have the words to say, and could not express my feelings by showing physical affection.

Those three weeks went by quickly, and the time came to say goodbye and return to my family in Thailand. The “goodbye” was just that. Goodbye. I wish I could stay longer. No tears, no hugs, no loving words. Just goodbye.

If I could go back in time I would tell him much I admired his kindness, his brilliance, his gentle spirit. I would thank Ron for all the great memories of our hikes and adventures together. I would tell him how much we would all miss him. I would make sure to give him the biggest hug possible—one that would gently surround him without adding to the pain of his tumours. And I would squeeze his hand one last time before whispering goodbye.