Yesterday, I said goodbye to one of my closest friends that I have known for over 12 years. Something I told her was that this was not a goodbye but rather a “see you later,” and this is very true.
Two Saturdays, I said goodbye to my grandpa, Papa, and once again, it was not a goodbye rather that a “see you again in heaven”.
Goodbyes are bittersweet because it embodies transition and change, and there aren’t too many people that embrace change.
Change is as constant and inevitable as the crashing waves of our ocean.
As I process these goodbyes, it highlights the importance of being present, savoring moments with our loved ones, family, and friends because permanence is something we don’t have as humans.
What is permanent is the memories we make and the legacy we leave.
Rachel Laird is one of the most loyal and faithful friends I have that always gone above and gives and loves beyond convenience. When my husband introduced me to Rachel, our sophomore year of high school, back in 2007, she instantly put me under her wing. She had her license, and as soon as she found out that we were close city neighbors, I was her co-pilot amongst one of my best friends, Allie, and my future sister in-law, Katie.
We had so many adventures that would take a lifetime to share from movie nights, twilight adventures in Azusa Canyon, eating Little Caesars pizza (a box each), taking those cheesy pictures at the mall, long two-hour bathroom conversations while I flat-ironed my hair, random road trips, bad and spontaneous hair dying decisions, and above all growing and loving each other in our seasons.
Rachel, thank you for being an older sister that I never had. Being the oldest, I have always felt like I have had to always have life figured out, but you made me feel like it was okay to not be okay, and this spoke so much life to me. This is not a goodbye but a see you later as you move to Tennessee.
Papa, my grandpa, was a pioneer, trail-blazer, and vision-maker in the Christian faith. He was my constant encourager who gave earnest wisdom and had a way of gently pushing me forward with an overwhelm of grace and love. In one of our last conversations that we had, he told me to continue writing and that my words matter.
He has no idea how much his words has been what I have hung on to on days that I feel like my “Coffee and Conversation” blogs don’t matter. He has no idea how much his words beckon me to sit at my writing desk and try again. He has no idea how much his words have strengthen my voice any time I have performed a spoken word. He lives on in my art. His legacy lives on in me and in his grandkids and great-grandkids.
Papa, thank you for going against the grind, being willing to be different. It reminds me that I was never meant to be of this world, what looks “normal”. You have called me to be world-changer, ground-breaker, and spirit-shaker. I love you very much, and I can’t wait to hear you sing in heaven.
To those that are under-going hard goodbyes, know to savor the present and make memories worth remembering. Live building the legacy you want to leave because that’s what lives in permanence.