An unexpected goodbye

I arrived alone, well composed, and I left alone in tears. I only really knew some of the nurses and doctors, and sat with a group of them because I didn't want to sit by myself. I came upon the group initially because I knew one of the staff members from the PTA, but she wound up moving to sit with a nurse who was on call, sitting in the back in case she had to leave.

The funeral brought out tears and laughter among the congregation, and was a fitting tribute to a wonderful man. I was more often than not overwhelmed with sadness and so I let the tears flow with as much dignity as I could muster. His family invited everyone to a Mercy Meal afterwards, but I didn't feel it was my place to attend. He was my kids' pediatrician, but I could not claim the title of family or friend beyond that. I had come to pay my respects and say goodbye and it was time to return home.

I spotted her immediately as we were leaving. I had wondered if she would even be there and so I was not surprised. Just as he had been one of the first to care for my boys when they were born, she was the one who cared for me. Just after Jeffrey was born 4-1/2 years ago, she wound up relocating to northern New Hampshire. She wasn't even practicing obstetrics at that time, but assisted with his birth at my request. She continues to see patients for their gynecological needs and I thought so highly of her that I even considered driving the nearly 1.5 hour drive to her new office. It would only be yearly and I felt with everything we had been through that it was well worth the effort. But in the interim period when she was not practicing, I had found another doctor and liked him. It was well over a year when I finally found where she had settled to practice again. It was probably easier to just stay put and continue with the new doctor.

I was standing nearby while she reunited with her former colleagues. She didn't notice me. Eventually I caught her stare, but did not see recognition cross her pale blue eyes. Still, we embraced and I told her I missed her and she nodded politely and then turned to talk to somebody else. She did not say my name. And I suddenly felt devastated that after everything we had been through over the last decade that involved my joys and tragedies of pregnancy, she didn't remember me at all.

I walked outside and stood among the groups of people standing and talking in groups. Some of the group with whom I had sat were talking amongst themselves, but I didn't move from where I stood. From my spot, I watched everyone around me and could feel the grief beginning to consume me again. People were leaving and the crowd slowly thinned out and still, I stood within the group, but couldn't help but feel so alone.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and knew I needed to go. Finally, slowly, I walked to the van, unlocked it, and got in and let the tears fall before I had even shut the door. I needed that moment of privacy and watched the cars driving out of the parking lot, most headed to another gathering place to talk about and remember the person that brought them here today.

I finally put the van into drive and headed out myself. I couldn't tell if the heaviness of the broken heart I felt beating in my chest was because I knew I was saying goodbye to him for the last time or because I was letting her go in the car in front of me, turning right out of the parking lot before I turned left, heading towards home. I was barely a memory in her mind; I decided that she would now be a memory in mine. And I thought I was only saying goodbye forever to one person today.