Wednesday, August 6, 2014

On Goodbye

I lost Beansie a year ago last weekend. 

The last time I took her to the vet, I knew it was the end. I'd known it for about two weeks. I just couldn't face it. She was my  GIRL. How could I let go of her?

I had to be stern with myself. I had to have the "you're making this about you" lecture with myself. I had to pry my fingers off of my control issues and finally -- painfully, horribly -- say goodbye.

I've had lessons in grace and saying goodbye. The day before my grandfather died, he thoughtfully and carefully passed on to me the things he would want people to know: how he felt about them, how proud he was of them, how amazing he believed they were. He told me he loved me, and then -- beautifully -- let go.

I pride myself on my schoolwork.

But I never mastered this particular lesson.

When it's time to let go ... Sometimes long after it's time ... I want to hold on. I understand on some level that part of life is saying goodbye. I get it.

But I suck at it.

At this moment, right now, I think I am losing a friend I adore. She's woven into my life like my own nervous system. I don't know how to stop this and I don't know how to let it happen.

I don't know how to say goodbye.

I just know that I don't want to. 

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