A Month of Goodbyes

In the last month I've said goodbye to my grandfather, my childhood home and my car.  Obviously these are three very different goodbyes.  However, while my grandfather was far more important to me than a house could ever be, and my home was more cherished than my car, the first two goodbyes were not as hard as I expected.

--------

My grandpa passed away on October 4th--four days short of his 95th birthday.  In late August his health started to fail--he got sick and never fully recovered.  I was home and got to visit him then.  It was hard to see him like that.  When I think of my grandpa, I think of a handsome, vibrant, charming man with bright green eyes and a shock of wavy white hair.  I remember a talker; a storyteller.  When I saw him in August, he was much too thin.  His hair was less; his eyes were dull.  He spoke to me, but he was in and out of sleep . . .

Still, I am grateful that I was given the chance to say goodbye--to hear him say "I love you" one last time.  Also, I feel very fortunate to have had my grandfather in my life for so many years.  His life was long, wonderful and accomplished.  I miss him but I feel that the life he lived is something to be celebrated and admired more than the loss of it is something to be mourned. 

--------

The house was home to my parents for 37 years.  It was the house that all three Egge girls came home to . . . It was where we grew up.  However it was no longer the only place I called home.  I love that house but lately I've been finding new homes.  C and I are making our home in Santa Cruz.  My parents have built a beautiful place up on Whidbey Island and in recent years it has seen Thanksgivings and Christmases, showers and weddings.  It has become our new gathering place.  I'm even starting to think of the Nelson's cabin in Mazama as home . . .

--------

In short, I was prepared for those goodbyes.  They felt natural; inevitable, even.  I felt no bitterness.  I mourned each loss but I didn't protest it.

--------

And so I was caught off guard when I found myself feeling sad over my car.  We had been so anxious to sell it that I guess I hadn't really prepared myself for the goodbye.  Initially I was relieved.  Once I handed over the keys, I no longer had to worry about selling my car . . . or maintaining it or paying for it or having it parked somewhere secure.  But then I remembered how I drove it to work every weekday for several years.  And how it took me over Washington's passes in snowstorms and all over Seattle in the rain.  It was the car I drove down to California in . . .  It was where I discovered countless songs, sorted through a million thoughts and made so many plans.  Since we moved into our condo, it has mostly sat in parking garages, but before then I spent a lot of time in my car and it carried me to a lot of places.

So here is my goodbye to my car, affectionately called "Javelina".  You were a dependable car; a good car. We traveled 61,283 miles together.  A lot happened between there and here.  Thank you for the miles and the memories. 

And here are some goodbyes as taken from my iPhone:

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.