November 25: End in Tears, Saying Goodbye, Hand Turkeys

"It'll all end in tears, I know it," shouted Eddie [the Heart of Gold's on board computer] after them, and closed the hatchway again.

Eddie is learning something pretty human at this moment.  That is, saying goodbye is never easy.  Whether to a supercomputer.  Or a friend getting on an airplane.  A daughter getting married.  A couple getting uncoupled.  A parent dying.  A door closing.  Goodbyes, in my experience, are heavy on the "bye," very light on the "good."

Today, I had a doctor's appointment.  Just a routine, six-month diabetic check.  This doctor has been taking care of my health for close to 34 years.  That's a long time.  He's watched me grow up, get married, have kids, and acquire gray hair.  This afternoon, we had to say goodbye.  He's retiring after a very long career.

Now, my doctor and I haven't been best friends or anything.  We rarely saw each other outside of my regular semi-annual exams.  Once, he attended a poetry reading I gave, and we went out for beer with a group of people.  He bought me a drink, and we talked about poetry.  (I had no idea he knew anything about poetry.  Go figure.)  After almost four decades of blood and urine tests, pokings and proddings, cold stethoscopes and one sigmoidoscopy (if you don't know what that is, count yourself lucky), I learned that he read Mary Oliver and Wendell Berry.

I liked this doctor, understood where he was coming from.  Granted, his bedside manner was not the most comforting.  He wasn't a teddy bear.  Yet, I never questioned that he cared about me and my well being.  So, my appointment with him today was bittersweet.  I will miss having him as a constant in my life.  We spent most of my appointment trying to think of the name of an Irish-American poet from the Seattle area.  (Neither of us could come up with his name.)  At the end, he handed me a route slip, shook my hand, said something like "It's been a pleasure taking care of you," and then he was gone.

That's what most goodbyes are like.  They happen quickly and are over before you've had a chance to really comprehend them.  The person walks out of the room and disappears forever from your life, with barely a glance backward.

I have had to contemplate a lot of goodbyes this year, and I'm still contemplating a few more.  This evening, all I can think about is parting ways with people I care about and trust and, to a greater or lesser extent, love.  These thoughts have been keeping me awake at night.  They are keeping me awake right now.

I did one thing this evening that provided a little relief from goodbye reflections.  I decorated a hand turkey.  For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, it's pretty simple.  You trace the outline of your hand on a sheet of paper.  Then, you decorate this tracing to make it look like a Thanksgiving turkey.  I remember doing hand turkeys in first and second grades.  This particular turkey is for a contest at the cardiology office where I work.  Whoever submits the best hand turkey wins a $10 Starbucks gift card.  (I will not be in the competition since I organized it.  I am submitting a turkey simply for the fun of it.)

Sometimes the only way to take your mind off your goodbyes is silliness.  Or art.

Saint Marty did a little of both this evening.