Goodbwye 2017

The car was packed, wife and kids buckled in and ready to head home. I stepped back in the house for ‘one last check’ to make sure we hadn’t forgotten any Hot Wheels, earbudes or toothbrushes. As I did, I sneaked in one more goodbye before we hit the road for home.

I sat on the arm of his chair in the living room, placed my arm on around the back of it, and leaned in to sorta hug him, resting my cheek against the head of the chair.

Only he was gone. His funeral was two days earlier. It was the first time I would ever leave home without saying goodbye to my dad. And for three and a half years now, that little ritual has played out with every departure.

Except yesterday.

For some reason, I didn’t do it. I’m not entirely sure why, even though I had thought about it the day before. Maybe in our haste to get going I just let it go. I had spent some time in the yard yesterday and the day before, reflecting on memories of dad. I took time to look at the pictures mom keeps of him on her bedroom wall. And while I think of him every day, most of yesterday I felt disappointed in myself for neglecting that custom. Even though it was always ever just for me, in private, for only a few brief moments. Never really bringing me the comfort I needed – a comfort that won’t come back for a while.

Instead, I hugged my mom again. Twice, perhaps subconsciously giving that extra hug to her instead. That made me feel a little better I guess.

We need to say “goodbye” for some reason.

Maybe it’s a polite tradition, a necessary greeting in reverse to simply close our connection to others for a while. Indeed, we feel incomplete when we don’t get to say – or hear – “goodbye,” “farewell,” or “see you later.” And yet, we don’t really want to say “goodbye,” do we? “See ya later” is hopeful and expectant, confident that we will cross paths rather soon. But maybe “saying goodbye” has become so common over the past generation or so as a euphemism for a eulogy or funeral. Sometimes we shorten it to “bye” or “buhBYE!” only to lose the language and meaning it once held.

“Goodbye” originated as a parting wish over 400 years ago, a contraction from a more common phrase. Times were that people would say, “God be with ye” – and it came to be influenced by the usage of “good day” and “good night.” Hence, “goodbwye” began trending centuries before hashtags and stuck.

It is full of meaning, invoking the presence of Divinity in the absence of each other. I suspect most people don’t know that, nor would very many really care if they did. After all, “God bless you” – among other “godly” phrases in our culture seldom inspire spiritual introspection. Nevertheless, I didn’t have our 16th century kin pegged as “vernacular slackers” intent on making new words by cramming others together like that (which, of course never happens these days, right?).

So here we are, January 1st, 2017.
God be with you.

It’s a prayer, really. Just like “So help me, God.” And for some reason, there is an instinct to bid people with whom we are parting company the best of wishes and fortunes, the sincerest hopes for their wellbeing. A benediction of sorts.

God be with you.
Can we offer them anything greater than this? Of course not!

Each occasion where we must offer those bittersweet words should be reverent and true. They should be kind and resolved. For the last words we utter to someone or hear from them to be “God be with you” are most perfect for their greatness and simplicity. Whether they are the last words shared for the day, for months, for years, or even for life. God be with you.

My last words to dad were simply “I love you, dad.” Since the evening he passed, there have been times where I’ve gone for a walk and just sorta “talked” to him. Again, it’s a ritual for me, a means of remembering, venting, even praying at some level. It’s helped me work through the weight of grief and the loneliness I’ve had for him. And, until yesterday, I would sit on the arm of his chair and quietly “say goodbye.” Only now, it is he who is with God and, therefore, peace is with me in knowing this.

I would simply bid you that same prayer here, that “God be with you.” But to truly have that blessing, realize first that He is pursuing you. All you need to do is stop and realize this. Abide with God on His terms, not on your schedule or feelings or impulses. Consider reading the Gospel of John for starters, followed by the book of Romans (you can complete both easily by tomorrow evening). Consider going out of your routine to visit someone in a rehab center, hospital, or nursing home – making a friend out of a stranger. Or people in other kinds of prisons – like jails and penitentiaries. Or finding people seeking shelter for food or escape from human trafficking. Spend time in a house of worship if even just to listen and observe. Retreat to a quiet place for a while and think about what God has said in His word. Write or call that old friend, the one you know to be Godly and wise and loving and reconnect with them, maybe opening the door a bit to some of their insights on who God is.

This same God was with my dad from his first cries as a newborn through his final breaths in the dark and rainy hours of that early June morning – and beyond. I know this because of the witness of scripture and history, all affirmed by the empty grave of His son. Why would you resist exploring this yourself?

After all his Son, Jesus Christ, is the ultimate expression of God be with you: “The word became flesh and lived among us. We beheld the glory of God, full of grace and truth.”

It’s 2017: God be with you.
I pray you’ll realize He’s there for you.

Post photo: Lydia on her scooter in the rain, ca. 2007 (yep – 10 years ago); Smyrna, Tenn. by me.