With easily a half-hour left in the movie, Tucker began to sense the end coming. But instead of watching closely and enjoying the good bit left, he wanted to make sure I didn't turn it off prematurely. Somewhere in every scene, he said, "Mommy, it's not done yet."
"Mommy, it's not done yet."
"It's not done yet, Mommy. Not yet."
I finally said, "Tuck, I know. I won't turn it off until it's over. Just keep watching. You don't want to miss anything."
And suddenly the parallels began to unfold in my mind.
Because this has been a year of transitions for me. Few of my tangibles have changed, but many dramatic changes have taken place among people who are close to me... and the ripple effect is fierce.
Lots of goodbyes. To stability. To routines. To the familiar. Lots of farewells with people I love. Lots. Too many. Some have moved away, across the country. Others have finished their lives on earth. My heart has felt fragile, tenuous, spread thin, but somehow also strengthened, deepened, and brave.
I am naturally resistant to change, and with each transition or goodbye, I found myself watching the end as it loomed ominously ahead.
Sometimes, I acted like Tucker, falsely buying more time with my best delay tactics. "It's not done yet. It's not done yet. Don't panic. It's not done yet." But I became so consumed with delaying the inevitable that I nearly missed some really great scenes.
Other times, I felt the credits start to roll, but they didn't slow me down. With an entirely different attitude, I promised myself, "It's not done yet. Don't worry. It's not done yet." And I dug my heels in, intent on absorbing it all... even the out-takes.
Today marked the end of an era for my family, as my dad transitions to a new job to finish the years in his career. As I hugged one of his faithful friends goodbye today, I whispered to her, "Don't worry. It's not done yet."
There are many ways to view those words. I need to choose wisely which perspective to claim.
"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."
~ Dr. Seuss