“Never say Goodbye Brooks. Goodbye is permanent. Say ‘bye’ or say ‘so long’. Saying goodbye means you will never see that person again. You’ll be seeing me again. Won’t you?”
“Yes Grandpa. I won’t say goodbye anymore.”
I was six years old when my Grandpa taught me that lesson. It’s one of those lessons that never stopped following me. It stuck with me and never let go. It’s one of those lessons that helped shape me into what I am today. It stuck firmly enough that twenty-five years later, as I watched his coffin lowering into the ground I said, “So long Grandpa.”
I’ll see him again, nothing is permanent.

“Goodbye” was on my mind last week as I watched Lyd and her friend Caela playing together for what might be the last time, at least the last time in the long foreseen future.
Let’s go back a couple of weeks…
Lydia and I bumped into Caela and her Mom. While those two chirped and giggled, her Mom and I chatted. “How’ve you been?” I asked. Her reply made me realize I must have, somewhere in the chaos of life, missed a memo. They were moving? They were moving far enough away where the most practical way to pull off a weekend visit would be to book a flight?
“How soon?”
“End of the month.”
“Holy crap! We need to get our girls together before you move.”
“I know!”
“We’ll talk.”

A few days later, Caela was dropped off at our place. My initial plans were derailed by weather, so I went in without a real plan and I was immensely frustrated about it. I wanted to do something memorable, something they can carry with them for the rest of their days.
Nodding in frustration, I stepped out of our house with them and began walking. I followed them, a good fifty feet behind them. Far enough away where it would feel like I wasn’t there. I observed them closely. I was still picturing “memorable”. I was expecting tears, expecting hugs. I was expecting a dramatic cinematic farewell of two friends who might never see each other again. In short, I was expecting them to behave like adults.
I didn’t get my tearjerker. I didn’t get it because sometimes, often, I still fail to see the world through a child’s mind. To them, this wasn’t necessarily a goodbye.
Grandpa’s voice began fading in. “Never say goodbye”. I thought about him. We never did anything “memorable”. No big waterparks, or trips to some fun-o-rama land. Nothing stupendous. Yet I spent so much of my childhood alongside him. My memories of him are some of the richest I have. As I grew older, we had many more “unmemorable” hours. More often than not, chats at the kitchen table, coffee in the morning, beer at night. Chuckles, laughter, pearls of wisdom hidden behind an infectious laugh. All of it incredibly memorable.
Memorable is not a manufactured thing.
Abruptly I decided I was okay with having no plan. Let it go, and let them be. Let them be together.
Their world is undamaged. The world hasn’t taken a bite out of them. They are young, they are immortal. All of a sudden I began to understand why my Grandpa preferred the company and conversation of children over adults.
Because kids have it right!
They are not saying goodbye. This is not an end in their minds. To them, it was another playdate. They’ll have another one…someday, some year. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like they’re saying goodbye (or something else just as serious)!
It’s a refreshing point of view. It’s a point of view that reminds me to keep my faith and spirituality.
They may never see each other again in this life, or maybe they will. I hope they’ll see each other again. Until then, I’ll do my best to not burst that bubble of innocence. They don’t need to be reminded of how far apart they will be. They don’t need to understand how numbered their days together are. I doubt my bursting of that bubble would even make a difference. Unlike us, they are unburdened. Distance isn’t a factor to them. Anything and everything is possible.
We winged it that day. We hit a playground, we wandered town. We fed some ducks. We stopped for ice cream, I even treated myself to a couple scoops. They sat at their own table (like grown-ups), I watched them and decided to be a bit like Grandpa and see if I can learn a lesson from those two. I lived in the moment. For a brief period of time, there was nothing else in the world except for that cup of salted caramel ice cream in front of me. I smiled. Grandpa would have chosen peach.

Caela, you are a wonderful little girl. You are friendly, considerate and modestly confidant. Never lose sight of your Mom. She is a strong woman and she has overcome incredible odds in raising you and your sister. May the wind always be at your back. Thank you for being a friend to my daughter. We’ll all miss you.

“Hey Grandpa, I just thought you’d like to know that I still never say goodbye.”
“Good Brooks, good.”
“And Grandpa?”
“Yeah Brooks?”
“Thank You.”
“Oh! Any time.”