No Word for Goodbye

I recently said goodbye to two people very dear to my heart. One of them I’d known my entire life; one passed through but for a moment. But my farewells to both were strikingly similar, and I can say that the Lord prepared me well to deal with both – He cushioned my heart with the assurance of His promises.

I’d never quite known what it is to lose to death someone really close to me. Friends and family have passed on, but no one from among the small community that occupies the most tender region of my heart. No one, that is, until my grandfather went Home on the 2nd of December (the day was already special enough for being the birthday of at least four of my friends). Only a couple of years ago I could not bear the thought of losing him, even if he was in his ‘90s. I grieved every time I parked in the hospital where he had been confined to relieve a clot in his brain; I prayed in desperation to a distant God like I’d never prayed before. And praise Him for listening, even if at the time I was far from being righteous (James 5:16), because my grandfather was given a few more years of health, sound mind, and happiness. In the meantime, I underwent a healing of my own, and decided to put my heart and my life in the hands of the One who had healed me.

And I know that it was only because of the relationship I have with Him that, when my grandfather finally left this earth, I felt none of that desperate grief that had so earlier afflicted me. I wept buckets of tears, but only because I am human and will miss the physical presence of the person who was one of the most influential forces in my life. But I cannot even properly call it grief, because the center has not fallen out of my life like I thought it would. I weep even as I write this, but my heart is intact for it is in good Hands.

There were no tears when I said goodbye to my dear friend Vince a couple of evenings ago. Which is ironic, since tears were one of the most special things I had shared with him, many, many times in the few months we’d known each other. I suppose that the fact that I could cry in his presence so freely (something purely unintended but unavoidable) was one of the reasons why our friendship became so deep in such a short time. One late evening after a very moving mission in Montalban, I was so overwhelmed that I could not even speak without my eyes leaking uncontrollably, which they did the entire way back to Quezon City. That was perhaps the first time I knew that he was a kindred soul. We “got” each other – no need for too many words or explanations, although we could talk up a very violent storm! But some of the best moments were spent in the comforting silence that exists between genuine friends; there is no need to say anything to someone whose interior hurts cannot surface to be properly expressed. It is enough to simply be with the other in loving silence. There are many more things worth remembering about this unusual friendship, but Vince, someone I’d learned to love just like a younger (albeit very smart) brother, had to go as well. He went, initially kicking and screaming at the turn of circumstances, but later on bravely resigned to God’s plan for him (or so I hope). I suppose that I did not shed any tears at this goodbye because I’d already shed so many when he was around me, or because I did not see him actually take that plane ride towards a whole new mission.

One of my favorite truths is found in Romans 8:28 – all things work for the good of those who love Him and who are called according to His purposes. I know my grandfather loved Him so dearly, and I even have a very powerful assurance that my Lolo is now happily in the heavenly home and in the presence of the One he had so looked forward to meeting (that’s another story for another time). And I know that Vince – who so loves the Lord as well, or is at least trying to - has been called to an exciting new mission that may not be what he had wanted, but will be the best thing that ever happened to him, if he continues to be sensitive to the One who called. This promise has made it so much easier for me to say goodbye to people I love, something I’ve never really been good at.

It is no coincidence that there is no word either in my grandfather’s Ilocano language, or in Vince’s French, for “goodbye.” Only a blessing that God accompany one on his journey - Dios ti kumuyog – and au revoir, until we meet again. And I know, without a doubt, that I will see these two dear people, who continue to share a space in my heart, again.