We’re standing around deciding where we’re gonna eat with a little banter, and a little bickering. I’m hoping we pick a sit-down restaurant because it’ll take up more time, but we settle on Martin’s. The drive there is short and filled with my complaints that we decided to go to Martin’s for pete’s sake. We wait in line, while dad talks about how we should’ve gone somewhere else that wasn’t as busy. “Oh! Pollo Tropical! That’s where we would’ve gone!” Too late, he thinks of a place that isn’t as busy. We play with my niece while in line, peek-a-boo and bouncing soon become boring to the 1 & 1/2 year old. We get up to the counter and put our long order in and go sit down. We talk about the food and how Kinsleigh isn’t feeling very well. Mick, my brother, sits silently next to me as he scrolls through his Facebook feed taking in each new meme or post about the recent shootings. We finish eating and decide it’s time to go. Dads got Kinsleigh and then gives her to me for our goodbyes. I give her a kiss and then see if she’ll go to my mom for hugs before leaving. She willingly goes and then heads to her papa for more hugs and kisses. I turn to my brother and give him a hug, trying to think of what to say because I know this is the last time I’ll see him for an entire year. He tells me “I love you, little one. Be safe while you’re gone and call us before you leave.” As soon as the words pass his lips I start crying. I tell him I will and that I love him too. I turn to Gabbi and give her a hug, and she holds me tight. She tells me to be safe as well and that we’ll see them soon. I get 2 more hugs from my brother as I try to hold in the tears. I help Gabbi get the baby into the car and grab something from the ground that had fallen. I give Gabbi and Kinsleigh one last hug, tell them that I love them, and that I’ll see them soon. I walk away with my mom, arms around each other to support the other while walking. All the while I feel each tear drip down slowly. Each one showing the pain I feel that I hate to let out. We get to our car and my mom pulls me close as I start sobbing. She tells me it’ll be okay but I don’t believe her. How can so much pain turn into something good?
A little later I looked up some verses about grieving and what I found was Isaiah 61:3 “and provide for those who grieve…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.”
Through every goodbye, God is there. Through every heartache, every disappointment, every failed plan. God is there and He is enough for all of us. It’s hard to remember sometimes, but we can lean on Him through everything; good and bad.
This wasn’t my last goodbye I have to make, but it’s one of the hardest.
