“Should I go see Grandpa one more time?,” my daughter asked.    Hospice told us it was a matter of days now and our second oldest daughter who was able to visit my Dad every week was torn about seeing him during these last days.   “It’s pretty rough,” I warned her.  I had seen this before, 20 years ago when I watched my mom slip away.    Nothing really prepares you for that look and I was protecting her from that forever-image by letting her know I didn’t expect her to go.  “It’s totally up to you, honey.  This is a very personal decision.”   

Yes, it is. Goodbyes are personal and no one can tell you how to do it.  That being said, my internal dialogue has gone something like this:

I’ll regret it if I can’t get there. I’ll regret going and always remembering him that way.  He wants me there.  He doesn’t want me to see him like that! He can’t really hear me or doesn’t really know I’m there.  He will know I didn’t get there. He understands why I can’t.  He is holding on to something.  What it could be?  Have I forgotten some unfinished business?   I’ve said everything I need to say, right?

No matter the internal strife of a situation, a therapist once said to me, “you have to go through this to get through this.” This rite of passage, of which few are immune, coupled with the crazy-eight dialogue bouncing off the inside of your skull is a slow kind of torture until you find some peace with your resolution.

For those of us living at a distance, resolution does not come easy.  We had to resolve this time could be the last time we would see him.  Some of us would be back in a week or two or three, or maybe we just pretended we would be back, knowing goodbye was simply too painful.  But now, here we are, really and truly near the end. Before the timing was a question mark, ranging from days to a couple of months.  We held on to the latter.  Secretly, I held on to never but apparently my Dad is mortal, after all.

Personally, I’ve done my best to travel to see him as often as possible.  I mostly don’t feel guilty living across the country.  We’ve said our I love you-s so many times.  While I didn’t talk to him everyday, we have always been like that and we have no unfinished business.  The younger of my brothers, Joe Jr., lives close to my Dad in California.  He’s been an attentive son, working nights and then visiting our Dad almost daily, taking him for strolls and “shooting the shit” as they would both say.  His mission has been to spend as much time with our Dad as possible and be there when he passes.  My sister, Susie, lives in Colorado and like me, has struggled with not being there.  She has a full-time job and four grown children who lean on her for various Teta (Grandma in Arabic) duties.  She has called my Dad most every day since he has been in hospice, always with an “I love you, Daddy” and his reply “I love you, too, sweetheart.”  The eldest, Scott, now lives in Texas.  He has work in California giving him the opportunity to visit my father fairly often, but still not there all the time.  He’s pretty quiet and his time with my Dad is quiet too but always attentive, pragmatic and present.   Four siblings saying goodbye in whatever ways we can, figuring out how to remain a family as we lose our glue.

Luckily, we love each other, even though there are times when we don’t like each other.  And just like every family, we have our stuff.   Inevitably, there are close siblings, closer siblings and then tolerance.  With these exponential nuances, we are saying goodbye to our Dad in different ways and each one of us seems to have made peace with this.  It isn’t the time for finger-pointing.  The time to run to Mom and tell on each other has long passed, but not by choice.   

Ultimately, it’s easy to judge me, or her or him, but it’s just as easy not to.  When the time comes (if it hasn’t already) you too will find your way.  If you are lucky like me, your goodbye will be yours, however it presents at that moment, without the judgment from others or more importantly, yourself.  It won’t be without pain but it can be without suffering.  As part of our collective consciousness, it is up to us to support each other in our decisions and give space for humanness, especially during the toughest of times. Goodbyes belong in the heart of the beholder and that has to be ok.