Column: Bev Jackson Cotter, Art Is…

How does one say “goodbye” when you know the words are final?

It seems that as I grow older, that scenario happens more and more often, and each time I am caught unawares. At the end of a visit I say things like “I’ll see you next week,” or “Just remember how special you are to me,” or “I love you,” but always I leave with the hollow feeling and questioning if this is the last time and were those the right words.

Maybe there is no correct way to say goodbye. Maybe, like my brother-in-law once said, “Goodbye is final. Don’t say it unless you really mean it.”

I wonder if the art of saying goodbye is one of those creative happenings that changes with the mood, the circumstance, the closeness, the season or the reason — happy or sad or relieved or devastated.

The following obituary descriptions were printed in the 1882 Freeborn County History Book. I find them to be fascinating reading, a little like wandering through a cemetery with 150-year-old tombstones. When you don’t know the people and when the death happened long before your time, it is easy to smile and say things like “Well, he must have been a humdinger,” or “Boy, that was flowery. I wonder if it is true.” And then there are the words that touch your heart.

“Mrs. Amanda Woodruff — She was true to all the instincts of womanhood, and was thus an eminently useful woman. On the 28th of May, 1879, the cares of life were quietly laid down for whatever else may be in store for her.”

“On the 6th of December, 1864, the sum of $1,000 was voted for the purpose of securing volunteers to fill the quota assigned to Bath Township, and to prevent the necessity of a draft. Of the 14 men raised at this time (six men had enlisted earlier in Wisconsin), Nels Nelson, Ole Iverson, and Mr. Jacobson never returned, finding the graves of martyrs in Southern soil.”

“Mrs. Minerva Blackmer — Most of her life was spent on the frontier, as she removed three times to the border of civilization to help subdue the wilderness. She was remarkably well fitted for success in such an arduous life; possessing, as she did, a strong constitution, with an earnest will she endured hardships beyond the ability of many. She was always happy in making others comfortable. Her departure to an unknown frontier was on the 17th of May, 1882.”

“Mrs. Charity Fay — The dial of time struck its last hour for her on the 25th of May, 1882.” “Augustus Armstrong — The thread of his life was snapped asunder on the 18th of August, 1873 at the age of 39 years. Stricken down in the meridian of his life’s journey, Minnesota lost a son very faithful, laboring for the good of all. His friends mourned a counselor and his family lost the sun that shone o’er their pathway.”

There is a large family tombstone in the Calvary Cemetery south of Austin that sums it all up. Carved in the stone is the family name with individual members listed on the four sides. Three sides state, “May he/she rest in peace.” The fourth says, “May God have mercy on his soul.” Each year a single bouquet of flowers is placed by the stone. Guess where.

I love this sentence in my mother’s obituary. She died in 1994 at the age of 92 and her obit is pretty standard detailing her life and family. While we all enjoy the memories of her wonderful cooking and handiwork, we will not forget, “The many hours she spent playing Scrabble with all her family members are very precious memories.” I have to tell you that she would even take her lunch off the table and set up the game if you only had a few minutes to visit her, and she played for blood.

How do we say goodbye? Is the art of saying “goodbye” something that we can perfect? I don’t think so.

 

Bev Jackson Cotter is a member of the Albert Lea Art Center where the Festival of Trees will be held from Nov. 25 through Dec. 31. The open house is Sunday, Nov. 27, 1 to 3 p.m. Be sure to tour this delightful collection of Christmas art displayed in cooperation with volunteers, community businesses and local organizations.