Today, our dear daughter says a final, heart wrenching goodbye to her friend, Meghan. The call came that it was ‘time’. No amount of medical intervention – well intended and miraculous – would delay the truth, the end. When a loved one approaches the end of life with blinding swiftness, there’s little opportunity to process, to understand. Untimely doesn’t begin to describe the magnitude of the loss. Just a day ago, the family had hope, thanks to glimmers suggesting possible recovery.
For those who’ve had the unbearable task of finding strength amidst the chaos, the nightmare of wondering…could I have done more? It’s like a prison cell. The ‘what ifs’ and the pain of second guesses? Horrific. If I could relieve those burdens for a few dear souls today, I would. I’d take every bit of the heaviness and pain and carry all of it…for as long as I could…to offer relief. Sweet relief.
Instead, I feel helpless, reflective and sad. Worrying about those who sit bedside, saying goodbye for the last time.
One of my dear blogging friends, Erin/Esoterica recently included a Leo Buscaglia quote in one of her posts. It shook me because I was once oh-so-familiar with his work, but I’d lost track of the simplicity and power in his words:
“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which has the potential to turn a life around.”
Most days, I live my life remembering that the ‘smallest act of caring’ CAN be a guiding light. Dr. Buscaglia was a central, inspirational figure when I was a wayward, ignorant undergrad. His words – in lectures and books – helped to frame both my personal and professional life. Grounded in goodness. I realized after reading one of his most famous quotes in Erin/Esoterica’s piece, that I’d lost track of the foundational nature of his wisdom. The brilliance and love that drew me in decades ago.
Inspired to re-read and remember, this morning I rummaged through my stash of old texts, copies of Dr. Buscaglia’s books and read again, his words of humanity and love. And then…I recalled a quote that I’ve shared many times with those in the grip of grief and wondered how I might share these wise words with Meghan’s loved ones – who at this very moment, endure the unthinkable as gaping holes in their hearts are torn open by final goodbyes. I wonder…and worry…
For how long, will they suffer? As they reconstitute their lives, minus precious Meghan, I wish them hope, love, resilience, and the ability to avoid the rewinds and tortured thoughts about what they might have done differently. Dr. Buscaglia wrote:
Love, accept, forgive – oneself, especially? Those are words that rumble in my head and soul – on repeat, like a refrain. A song about withstanding pain, my plea to the universe, for the brokenhearted today.
Although Dr. Buscaglia died in 1998, today I honor him, remembering how his life’s work helped to carve and craft my journey, reminding me that life without love, no matter how much pain we’ve suffered, is the biggest loss of all.
And perhaps that’s the greatest gift. Reminding a family overwhelmed by grief that remembering Meghan, the love, the light, the sprite that she was? It is enough. And in the days ahead, it will be everything.
Vicki 💕
Victoria Ponders 
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