The Chance to Say Good-bye
by Mary Cunningham
genre:
Nonfiction
description:
How do you say goodbye to a friend?
Not the way I did many years ago.
chapters
chapter 1:
The Chance to Say Good-bye
The Chance to Say Good-bye
chapter 1
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updated 06/29/08
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I’d just moved six hundred miles away when my very dear friend, Jeannie, died after a long and courageous battle with cancer. Of course, I told myself, I couldn’t go back for her funeral. We were barely settled in a new city and state, and besides…it was too late to say goodbye. I’d already missed many opportunities.
On several occasions during Jeannie’s illness, I’d phone her while visiting my hometown. She was usually too sick to talk, and relayed messages through her husband that she’d be able to see me “next time.” I’d hang up the phone, disappointed, but also a little relieved that I didn’t have to face my friend’s frightening illness. Now, three moves, three cities, and eleven years later, I finally have the chance to say goodbye.
I wasn’t thrilled when we were transferred to New Jersey from Florida, but it was a business opportunity that couldn’t be passed up. Having moved the early part of August into a large, old, two-story brick home with no air conditioning, I was up to my eyeballs in boxes, packing paper, and sweat when the doorbell rang. Oh no, I thought. I can’t handle company right now. But since I was in the living room and the front door was wide open with only a screen between the outside world and me, I had no other choice. A smiling blonde-haired woman standing on the front porch said, in a fast-paced, northeast accent that was difficult for this southern girl to comprehend, “I’m Gail from across the street.” She then proceeded to shove two ears of fresh corn into my hands and ordered me to throw them in the microwave ― husks and all ― for four minutes. “Now don’t forget to cook them in the husks!” she commanded, making her way back down the sidewalk. I thanked her and walked into the kitchen, repeating the exact instructions, since I had a feeling she’d test me the next time I saw her.
Five years later, Gail’s not just my neighbor, she’s my friend, and facing the same insidious disease that Jeannie faced so many years ago. Along with a couple friends and neighbors, I’ve been pitching in to take her to chemotherapy and cook meals when she doesn’t have the strength. When she’s too tired to do anything but lie on the sofa, I read stories from a children's series that I’ve written in the past few years. As I begin, she leans back on her pillow, closes her eyes, and drifts into the fantasyland my words have created.
Leaving Gail’s house today following hours of story telling, gossip, and green tea, a feeling of peace comes over me. I am finally able to help a sick friend in need, and maybe this time the outcome will be different. All that’s certain is that I have the opportunity to be here for her…as long as it takes.
And now, after all these years, I can finally say, with peace in my heart…Good-bye, Jeannie.
Gail died the following year…
her friends steadfastly by her side.
Mary Cunningham
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On several occasions during Jeannie’s illness, I’d phone her while visiting my hometown. She was usually too sick to talk, and relayed messages through her husband that she’d be able to see me “next time.” I’d hang up the phone, disappointed, but also a little relieved that I didn’t have to face my friend’s frightening illness. Now, three moves, three cities, and eleven years later, I finally have the chance to say goodbye.
I wasn’t thrilled when we were transferred to New Jersey from Florida, but it was a business opportunity that couldn’t be passed up. Having moved the early part of August into a large, old, two-story brick home with no air conditioning, I was up to my eyeballs in boxes, packing paper, and sweat when the doorbell rang. Oh no, I thought. I can’t handle company right now. But since I was in the living room and the front door was wide open with only a screen between the outside world and me, I had no other choice. A smiling blonde-haired woman standing on the front porch said, in a fast-paced, northeast accent that was difficult for this southern girl to comprehend, “I’m Gail from across the street.” She then proceeded to shove two ears of fresh corn into my hands and ordered me to throw them in the microwave ― husks and all ― for four minutes. “Now don’t forget to cook them in the husks!” she commanded, making her way back down the sidewalk. I thanked her and walked into the kitchen, repeating the exact instructions, since I had a feeling she’d test me the next time I saw her.
Five years later, Gail’s not just my neighbor, she’s my friend, and facing the same insidious disease that Jeannie faced so many years ago. Along with a couple friends and neighbors, I’ve been pitching in to take her to chemotherapy and cook meals when she doesn’t have the strength. When she’s too tired to do anything but lie on the sofa, I read stories from a children's series that I’ve written in the past few years. As I begin, she leans back on her pillow, closes her eyes, and drifts into the fantasyland my words have created.
Leaving Gail’s house today following hours of story telling, gossip, and green tea, a feeling of peace comes over me. I am finally able to help a sick friend in need, and maybe this time the outcome will be different. All that’s certain is that I have the opportunity to be here for her…as long as it takes.
And now, after all these years, I can finally say, with peace in my heart…Good-bye, Jeannie.
Gail died the following year…
her friends steadfastly by her side.
Mary Cunningham
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