ChrisChat Indulges: You’ll never know…death until you’re saying goodbye


My maternal grandfather was born April 17th. He died 1982. I never should have known him, but he won the heart attack battles. The last one took him before I could say goodbye.

My dad and maternal grandmother; I got to say goodbye.

To say goodbye or not to?

I don’t know which was easier on my heart and memories. Having the time to say goodbye. To witness their final days and moments. To walk away knowing this might be our last time.

Or having them taken away in a second.

The shock is the same. They’re no longer here. They’re gone.

We know our love ones will die. We will die. But death is this element that comes when it will. We certainly never ask “so when are you thinking of dying” the same way we ask a couple when they’ll start having children.

Death, we think we know and understand it. No. Not until we’re saying that final goodbye. Not until we are witnessing the change from living to dying.

Truthfully it doesn’t matter when you say goodbye. It’s still death and they’re still gone.

We all know death.