THANKFUL FRIDAY

Monday evening, Michael and I picked Chad up from the rental car place at the airport. Then we picked up a to-go order of too much BBQ, took it back to our place and ate too much food while talking about all of the things. The next morning, I made Chad and I breakfast and we sat on the couch talking about even more things while Michael left for work. Chad had to be in Blue Springs at 10:00AM that morning to get training on and pick up his and Jess’s new camper van. I drove him out there and we unloaded all of his gear into a waiting room where we sat and talked about his workshop until an employee came in to discuss paperwork with Chad. Then Chad and I had the weirdest, most awkwardly rushed goodbye. We cried in front of strangers and then I practically ran from the building.

I had taken the whole day off from work because I didn’t really know what the plan was going to be. So when I got home, I cleaned the salty tear streaks from my face and made a lemon meringue pie. Because when life gives you lemons, you make lemon meringue pies. I had promised my coworkers a lemon meringue pie for Valentine’s Day and never delivered. This was me keeping a partial promise. I don’t make this pie but maybe once or twice a year. There’s just more work involved in making it then there is to quickly throwing together an apple pie. Ten of the eggs have to be separated, six lemons have to be zested and then those six lemons have to be juiced. I don’t have a citrus juicer and all of this has to be done by hand. The pie crust has to be made, baked and cooled before you start building the custard. And then making the filling requires me to stand at the stove with my bowl set up over a pot of simmering water, just constantly stirring until the contents of the bowl starts to thicken. That takes about fifteen minutes. The meringue is the easiest part. I start off in the double bowler, heating the egg whites and sugar just until the sugar melts. Then it gets transferred to the mixer and I can take a break.

But the end results are worth it.

I thought about our rushed, weird goodbye as I stirred pie filling and thought about other times I’d had to say hasty goodbyes to those I love. Nothing tops that one time Talaura put a giant cookie in my hands, said “Iloveyoubye!” and shoved me off the bus at LaGuardia. I don’t remember ever really saying goodbye to Chris. I remember when he stopped making any sense and being overwhelmed with not being able to do enough to ease his pain, but I wasn’t home when he died. The nurse called me ten minutes after I got to work. Chris didn’t even give me a cookie before shoving me off the bus and this is not where I planned for this post to go, but here we are.

Goodbyes are hard.

Chad and I had less than twenty four hours to pack in all the words and laughter, to actually look at each others’ faces while we told each other as much as we could about what has really been happening since the last time we saw each other or talked on the phone. I always want more time though, which adds to the difficulties in saying goodbyes. Today, I am concentrating on the time we were gifted and not the goodbye.

Today, I am concentrating on the art of not saying goodbye.