Travel

Dalk net – die laaste maal!

Hanteer en waardeer, almal, altyd, asof dit die laaste keer is, wat jy hulle gaan sien !

So in die aanstap na Platform 8 toe, was die woorde min en die knoppe in die keel baie. Tog was dit nie ongemaklik nie. As ‘n mens met iemand aan die hart verbind is, dan sê die stiltes baie keer meer as die lompe woorde wat by die mond uitkom.

Dit was vir my interressant dat die koebaai-sê elke keer, soos wat ek ouer word, al hoe moeiliker raak. Seker omdat ‘n mens so met die ouer-word saam, al hoe meer begin besef dat ons op geleende tyd leef. Op die platform aangekom moes ons nog 15 minute wag vir die trein. Na twee weke se baie harde werk het Pa toe sy laaste instruksies en opdragte, weer gekry. Alles is al gesê, maar met damwalle in die oë wat wil bars en knoppe in die keel wat woorde sluk, het ons maar probeer om die laaste 15 minute verby te kry.

Toe kom die trein. Na ‘n laaaang vashou van niks sê nie, maar weet wat jy weet, het ek my doodskis tas, vol geskenke, op die trein gelig en gaan sit. Ek het by die wasemvenster uitgekyk en buite het my oudste gestaan en toe … breek die damwalle en toe loop die trane sommer sonder keer. Dit was weer koebaai – wie weet, dalk vir die laaste keer? So in die wegry, deur die trane het ek gebid; “Dankie Pappa Vader vir die voorreg om lief te kan hê en om liefgehê te kan word. Leer my on elke dag almal wat my pad kruis, so te hanteer en te waardeer asof dit dalk die laaste maal is wat ek hulle gaan sien. Help my om die dankies en mooi dinge nou te sê, die blommekranse nou te gee en die doringkranse te los vir die graf.”

Sommer so onwillikeurig het die storie van, “I wish you enough” by my opgekom.

I wish you enough

Recently I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure. Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the father said, ‘I love you, and I wish you enough.’They kissed and the daughter left. The father walked over to the window where I was seated. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but I could not refrain from asking:‘When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’ May I ask what that means?’

He began to smile. ‘That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.’ He paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, and he smiled even more.
‘When we said, ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them.’ Then turning toward me, he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good- bye.

Shalom!


Perhaps – the last time?

Appreciate and cherish everyone, always, as though it is the last time, you’re ever going to see them!

We had to walk to Platform 8 from which I would depart. We walked in silence – words were few because they were swallowed by the lumps in my throat and the effort to keep the tears at bay. Yet it was not awkward. When people are connected in the heart, words sometimes feel somehow unnecessary. Many a time silence speaks a lot louder than the clumsy words that come to mind.

All of a sudden it dawned on me how saying goodbye, becomes all the more difficult, the older one gets. I guess it happens because one realizes more and more that time isn’t on our side anymore and therefore, we have to make every second count. I guess we begin to realize that we are living on borrowed time. Arriving on platform 8 we had to wait another 15 minutes for the train. After two weeks of hard work, Dad got his last instructions and orders again. Everything has already been said, but with dam walls that threatened to burst in the eyes, bumps in the throat that swallowed the words, we battled through the last 15 minutes.

Then the train came. After a long hug, without any words, because words can’t express what the heart wants to say, I took my bag, full of gifts, lifted it on the train and boarded. I looked out of the window and outside the foggy window stood my eldest daughter and then… the dam walls broke! Tears were running the sprints down my cheeks and I was sobbing that BIG sob. Once again, it was saying goodbye – who knows, maybe for the last time? Through the tears I prayed; “Thank you Father for the privilege of loving and being loved. Teach me every day to treat everybody who crosses my way with dignity and appreciation, for I don’t know if I’m ever going to see them again. Give me the grace to say the thank-you’s and those things that really matter while I can. To give the bunches of roses now and leave the thorny crowns for the grave “

A thought flashed through my mind and I recalled the story of “I wish you enough”, which you can read above.

Shalom!

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