Has something ever happened to you that made you wonder only to receive a fortune cookie addressing the same thing?

 If you guessed that imitation was what made me wonder, you’re right.But today’s conversation isn’t about imitation. It’s about goodbyes.

It feels right to talk about goodbyes today. It’s funny, I planned on writing about it last year but never got to post what I wrote. It feels timely now so join me as I walk you through my thoughts. 

 I’ll start with a question. What would you say to someone if you truly knew you had to tell them goodbye? Is it, “take me with you”? Or “I love you”? Would you hold back? Would you wish them well? Or maybe not even say goodbye at all for the fear that you just can’t stand what is about to be? 

In 2023, I saw a neighbor when I travelled home. She was very beautiful, amazing, god fearing and down to earth. We were very excited to see each other. I was happy I said hi. We chatted, caught up on life and talked about future goals. I remembered our chat about adulting. 

“Adulting isn’t easy” I remember telling her. I met her family. Saw her husband and kids. We were excited to see one another. I saw her almost everyday. Eventually, the d- day came. It was time to leave.

 I should have said bye bye. I planned to just like I said hi. But I didn’t. Not because I didn’t want to but because I thought goodbye was a luxury I’ll always have at my disposal. 

Two years later, my sister called.

“Ruka, our neighbor, Mrs. Xxxx, passed away.”

What? My body went cold.

Another death without a goodbye. 

I knew I had left without saying goodbye. I planned to call. To apologize for the slience. And for not knowing that goodbye would be my last chance.

This was the second death that hit close to home.

The first was my dad. I never prepared to say goodbye to daddy. I knew it’d come but I wasn’t ready for it. Daddy was the patriarch of our home. The pillar that held everything together. The glue that bound us. Our leader, protector and provider. How do you say goodbye to someone like that?  

This second death was unexpected. I had the chance to say goodbye, but not in a way that acknowledged its finality. Somehow, these experiences have shaped my conversation.

Recently, I spoke to a friend about the goodbyes we never got to say to people we love. We both agreed that experiencing the death of a loved one shapes us.  

My father’s death forged me in a way that has made me extra present and deliberate about people and relationships I care about.

But goodbyes do not only come with the loss of a loved one. I’ve said goodbyes to people and places. However, places come with people and people come with places. What happens when the place remains but the people leave? Or the people remain but the place changed?

What would you do? How would you adapt? Would you say goodbye before that change happens? What would you say, or maybe do, if you knew your goodbye is or will be final or maybe even almost final?

Would you say carpe diem?

To those I never truly said goodbye to, I would have said, “I’ll miss you.” And to those I am yet to say goodbye to: I miss you, and I will miss you. 

And as much as I wish you well on your journey, one thing I know I’ll do, whether I never truly said goodbye or yet to say it, is to be deliberate and intentional about what we shared and share.