The little toddler curls his tiny fingers and waves just the way his parents taught him
to do. His smile is bright and his eyes sparkle as he sings, "Bye-Bye." It's one of the
first things we learn as children. How to say goodbye. Whether it's off to daycare, to
school, or to Gramma's house, we wave and smile and say, "Bye-Bye."
I was so angry when my mother left me. I knew she would never come back and the
finality of her leaving made saying "Bye-Bye" impossible. I just couldn't force myself
to tell her goodbye this time. Oh, I had told her that so many times over the years with
a smile on my face. Off to school, down the aisle when I married, off to a new town in
another part of the country with my new family, at the end of a too-short visit, or at
the end of a too-long telephone call.
But this time it was different. This time she was leaving, not me. This time it was final.
She wouldn't be coming back. Cancer made sure of that.
I watched her frail body give in to her illness and then... she left me. Angry tears
washed down my face because I knew she wasn't coming back. It wasn't fair. I
wasn't finished with her yet. I still had too many things to ask her, and too many days
I would need her, and yet she still left. Just like that. She was gone from me.
Surely, I thought, there must be someone I can blame. Someone who must be
responsible for this injustice. I wanted to be mad at her, but it wasn't her fault. She
didn't plan on getting cancer. She wanted to get well. She never wanted to die. She
never wanted to leave me. I was so angry that I wasn't able to tell her goodbye. I
couldn't make the words come because I knew it was going to be so damned final.
I wanted to be angry at God for taking her too soon. They say God doesn't make
mistakes, but I was certain that this time He had. And it was a really big one. But
while I was trying to aim my anger, I suddenly recalled an event many years earlier in
my life. It played out before me as in an old home movie.
My family had moved, which it seemed we did often due to my father's occupation.
Mother searched until she finally found a church in our new hometown. It was our
first Sunday there. She dropped me off at the door of my new Sunday School class
with a dozen or so other five-year old little girls. She smiled her Mommy smile and
said, "I'll be back, hon. Remember, I'm just out of sight for a little while."
Well I didn't feel five. I felt more like two. I didn't want her to go away and leave me
alone with all of those other strange children. I didn't know any of them and I wasn't
even sure I wanted to. I just wanted the comfort of having Mommy beside me. With
her close, I could handle anything, even ten dozen strangers. But she left me there
anyway, in spite of my tantrum, and for what seemed like a gazillion hours, she was
gone. I was still crying when she returned and she was sorely surprised that I had
reacted so strongly to her leaving.
When we got home she sat down and tenderly spoke these words to me with love in
her heart and a big smile on her face:
"Remember when I left you this morning? You know something really amazing? I
wasn't really gone!"
Those words struck me as a lie. A Sunday lie, which was even worse. Sure she was
gone. She left, and was gone, and I was all alone. I had watched the door for a
gazillion hours before she came back to get me. I stared at her with disbelief as she
continued.
"I was only gone from your sight. I left the place you were in, and I went to another
place, just another room. But I was still there at the Church. Don't you see? I'm never
really gone. Just sometimes I have to be out of your sight for awhile and even though
I'm still here, you just can't see me."
I remember being so confused. She was so sincere and I could feel the love in her
voice. She had sparkles in her eyes as she told me this story. It was like she had
been on a great adventure.
"Don't you know I'm with you always, even when I'm away for a little while. I carry you
everywhere I go," she said as she pointed to her chest, "right here inside my heart."
I don't claim to have all the answers about life and death, or life after death. But I
know in my heart that she is only now gone from my sight. She still carries me with
her in her heart, wherever she has gone, and I carry her forever in my heart, too.
Someday we will meet again, and the gazillion hours of waiting will be over.
There's a poem about the dying process that uses an analogy of a ship leaving the
shore, by Henry Van Dyke. As the ship moves out into the deep waters it appears to
get smaller but its size actually always remains the same. It only diminishes in our
sight, from our point of view.
We stand at the shore and wave goodbye as it disappears from our sight and our
tears show how much we mourn at her leaving. What we cannot see is the distant
shore and the ones awaiting her arrival at her new destination. While we are grieving
our loss, they wave and shout with glee as they anticipate her arrival with great joy!
It's a new adventure!
to do. His smile is bright and his eyes sparkle as he sings, "Bye-Bye." It's one of the
first things we learn as children. How to say goodbye. Whether it's off to daycare, to
school, or to Gramma's house, we wave and smile and say, "Bye-Bye."
I was so angry when my mother left me. I knew she would never come back and the
finality of her leaving made saying "Bye-Bye" impossible. I just couldn't force myself
to tell her goodbye this time. Oh, I had told her that so many times over the years with
a smile on my face. Off to school, down the aisle when I married, off to a new town in
another part of the country with my new family, at the end of a too-short visit, or at
the end of a too-long telephone call.
But this time it was different. This time she was leaving, not me. This time it was final.
She wouldn't be coming back. Cancer made sure of that.
I watched her frail body give in to her illness and then... she left me. Angry tears
washed down my face because I knew she wasn't coming back. It wasn't fair. I
wasn't finished with her yet. I still had too many things to ask her, and too many days
I would need her, and yet she still left. Just like that. She was gone from me.
Surely, I thought, there must be someone I can blame. Someone who must be
responsible for this injustice. I wanted to be mad at her, but it wasn't her fault. She
didn't plan on getting cancer. She wanted to get well. She never wanted to die. She
never wanted to leave me. I was so angry that I wasn't able to tell her goodbye. I
couldn't make the words come because I knew it was going to be so damned final.
I wanted to be angry at God for taking her too soon. They say God doesn't make
mistakes, but I was certain that this time He had. And it was a really big one. But
while I was trying to aim my anger, I suddenly recalled an event many years earlier in
my life. It played out before me as in an old home movie.
My family had moved, which it seemed we did often due to my father's occupation.
Mother searched until she finally found a church in our new hometown. It was our
first Sunday there. She dropped me off at the door of my new Sunday School class
with a dozen or so other five-year old little girls. She smiled her Mommy smile and
said, "I'll be back, hon. Remember, I'm just out of sight for a little while."
Well I didn't feel five. I felt more like two. I didn't want her to go away and leave me
alone with all of those other strange children. I didn't know any of them and I wasn't
even sure I wanted to. I just wanted the comfort of having Mommy beside me. With
her close, I could handle anything, even ten dozen strangers. But she left me there
anyway, in spite of my tantrum, and for what seemed like a gazillion hours, she was
gone. I was still crying when she returned and she was sorely surprised that I had
reacted so strongly to her leaving.
When we got home she sat down and tenderly spoke these words to me with love in
her heart and a big smile on her face:
"Remember when I left you this morning? You know something really amazing? I
wasn't really gone!"
Those words struck me as a lie. A Sunday lie, which was even worse. Sure she was
gone. She left, and was gone, and I was all alone. I had watched the door for a
gazillion hours before she came back to get me. I stared at her with disbelief as she
continued.
"I was only gone from your sight. I left the place you were in, and I went to another
place, just another room. But I was still there at the Church. Don't you see? I'm never
really gone. Just sometimes I have to be out of your sight for awhile and even though
I'm still here, you just can't see me."
I remember being so confused. She was so sincere and I could feel the love in her
voice. She had sparkles in her eyes as she told me this story. It was like she had
been on a great adventure.
"Don't you know I'm with you always, even when I'm away for a little while. I carry you
everywhere I go," she said as she pointed to her chest, "right here inside my heart."
I don't claim to have all the answers about life and death, or life after death. But I
know in my heart that she is only now gone from my sight. She still carries me with
her in her heart, wherever she has gone, and I carry her forever in my heart, too.
Someday we will meet again, and the gazillion hours of waiting will be over.
There's a poem about the dying process that uses an analogy of a ship leaving the
shore, by Henry Van Dyke. As the ship moves out into the deep waters it appears to
get smaller but its size actually always remains the same. It only diminishes in our
sight, from our point of view.
We stand at the shore and wave goodbye as it disappears from our sight and our
tears show how much we mourn at her leaving. What we cannot see is the distant
shore and the ones awaiting her arrival at her new destination. While we are grieving
our loss, they wave and shout with glee as they anticipate her arrival with great joy!
It's a new adventure!
| Gone Only From My Sight © Ferna Lary Mills |
| A Christian Grief Ministry |
100's of Inspirational Grief Poems and Stories |