december's confessional is a long goodbye
a somber farewell to december and those who were left there.
around this time last year, i got a call from my parents and they told me that my dad’s dad was in the hospital. his health had been declining throughout 2023 and we honestly thought the thanksgiving we spent together that year was going to be his last. naturally, the idea of saying goodbye inched closer and haunted every conversation I had with or about him.
i was already planning on going to my grandparent’s house before i left for a trip planned for 2023’s new years eve. I told my parents I wouldn’t go if they needed me to stay in my grandparents’ city, but they told me to still go and enjoy my time. i got to their house earlier and ended up spending about a week at the beginning of the new year driving my grandma to and from the hospital and grocery store before I had to leave to go back to school.
every phone call from my parents, especially my dad, I was on edge. i was waiting for the call. not only did i feel guilty that I was too far to help, but also I felt guilty because I was relieved I did not have that responsibility. it was hard to watch a man who was once so lively and stubborn be confined to either a bed or a wheelchair. a man who never stopped whistling or debating was silenced by a force entirely out of his control.
by the end of January, my grandpa was out of the hospital but nothing looked less bleak to me. in all honesty, the beginning of the year felt like the beginning of the end. there were highs that almost gave me hope but those were quickly squashed by the lows of reality. throughout the year, I kinda just waited for the inevitable.
and one of the few times I answered the phone not on edge, was the time that I got the call that my grandpa passed away. i had just got home from getting milkshakes with friends after a stressful day cramming in the library. i was laughing, scrolling on instagram right as my mom called me. my voice, chiper, was met with a somber, almost hushed reply. she broke the news, and I broke our unspoken rule of not cursing in front of her. then we hung up the phone.
we had just seen my grandpa for thanksgiving, and that felt more like the end than before. the inevitable is daunting. it’ll stare you in your face while you brace for impact, but the impact will still hit you just as hard as it would if you did not know what was coming at you.
i stewed in silence for a few minutes, unsure of how you even proceed from hearing the news you’ve not only been waiting an entire year for but something that is also a natural part of our cycle. and truthfully, the only close and personal experiences i had with death until now are when my hairdresser and her 17-year-old son were murdered by her husband when I was seven and when my first dog died when i was 16.
so instead of wallowing, praying, or even shedding a tear, i threw myself into my work, the best distraction of all. finals became a convenient diversion. i could blame crash-outs on the fact that i had 50 pages to write over 8 days instead of the fact that i literally did not want to acknowledge my grandpa’s death because that felt easier. i spent over a week on less than 25 hours of sleep. i went to work, tutoring students and serving guests as if nothing happened not because i couldn’t express the fact that i did not know what to feel.
it wasn’t until the funeral when I found out his official diagnosis that took forever for doctors to identify: my grandpa suffered from parkinson’s disease. it’s really hard to call his death a tragedy because he lived to 81 years old. he was an old man who lived a long life. technically speaking, there really should be nothing sad about it.
however, his last year and a half was not a comfortable time for him as it ended completely differently than anyone would have expected it to. the quality of life, or lack thereof, blurred the lines between life and death. throughout this year, i questioned whether anything would feel different if he was with us in a frail and partially-responsive state or if he was gone. but i suppose sometimes the perception of life protects us from the reality of death.
i turned 20 two days after the funeral. it felt almost oxymoronic celebrating another year of life for me in the midst of grieving the death of my grandpa. truthfully, because of everything going on, i forgot my birthday even existed most of december. i was not prepared to celebrate anything. but again, i think the part that confused me the most was the blurred line between happiness and sadness. the fact that both can exist simultaneously and often need the other to be sustained means something. whether it be the absence of sadness or despite it, happiness cannot survive.
during the eulogy my dad gave, he mentioned that parkinson’s was called the “long goodbye”. i found “the long goodbye” to be such a fitting term to describe not only December, but also the entire year.
December was a goodbye to teenage innocence. i had to trade my youthful nativity for the foundation of wisdom i’m allegedly going to obtain as i age.
december was a goodbye to a year of laughing and crying. maybe not a forfeit of those emotions or a vow to never celebrate or grieve again, but rather the goodbye serves as an acknowledgment to resist separating the two. december is being content with the fact that in order to feel joy i must know sadness.
to be fully transparent, I have been avoiding writing this. i fear that whatever I say is not enough. but i’m also scared that this is too much.
i guess i really wanted to write this to end the month and the year to really say goodbye. not just to my grandpa, but also to the person i was this year. while both of those people will always be with me as i continue on, i also think it is important to acknowledge that some chapters are complete. you don’t get a do-over, you don’t get a second chance, and sometimes, you only get to use that experience as a lesson.
goodbye does not always mean it is the end. sometimes it might, but sometimes goodbye can serve as a transition to the next hello.
life and death; happiness and sadness; goodbye and hello.
all three are opposites that hinge on the existence of the other.
and even though goodbyes are necessary, it does not hurt any less. no matter how long, short, or predictable the goodbye is, it will always feel sudden. it will never feel like there was enough time to prepare. and i think december taught me to be okay with falling on my face and not knowing how to get up right away. because eventually, i will get up.
this month was hard yet crucial, which is another contradiction we’ll ignore for the sake of brevity.
despite it all, we live to love and find joy in the pain.
to 2025, a year that will be full of even more contradictions.