Final Goodbyes

Over the last week or so I’ve tried to find the perfect words, the words to say goodbye, the words that will do the moment justice. And all I’ve managed to do is waste paper. I’ve realized there are no perfect words so I’m just going to talk.

I remember the first time I met you. Well, I was young so I don’t know whether it is a memory or a figment of my imagination. I was staying with my mom on the farm. I hadn’t seen my dad in ages and I was so excited. When he arrived I ran out o the car to greet him only to see you, sitting in the passenger seat.

I was terrified. You were tall and beautiful with a hair so big you could put Jonny Bravo to shame (I suppose that was all the fashion back then). You got out of the car and I could feel myself quiver in fear. You were about double my height, you were elegant and graceful (not an easy feat when climbing out of a bakkie), and you were wearing high heels. I ran and hid under my bed, terrified and sad that my weekend with my dad had been ruined. You were the ultimate step monster.

I was wrong. Hell, you’ve been proving me wrong ever since.

Over the years you have taught me so much and shaped me into the type of woman I want to be. You dispensed your advice, and I took from it what I wanted. I look at the woman you were in all the time that I knew you and can’t help hoping that one day I will be like you too.

In my matric year we went on holiday to Port Edward. I remember you and dad sitting us down and telling us what the doctors had said. The cancer had spread, taking over; we didn’t think you’d make it to Christmas. I think you thought so too for a stage. I remember walking down the beach, my sister and I with our arms linked. You two were just ahead of us and there were a couple rocks we’d have to climb over. I watched as my dad grabbed your hand and helped you up and over. I saw it then. You were the love of his life and he was going to support you through every step of this fight. This would not be the end.

I was right. A year later I was home for the holidays and you were still fighting, still standing. I was so proud of you and I admired everything about you. I know that dad dying was a huge blow, and saying goodbye to Ollie (Oliver Barnes McGinn, our dog) just after that didn’t help. I thought the for sure that you’d give up but you continued fighting for as long as you could. You amazed me.

I know it is selfish to wish that you were still here but I guess I just miss you. But it has come time to say goodbye. Thank you for all the lessons learnt, for all the lessons taught, for the life you led and the memories we shared. Thank you for taking us in and looking after us as your own. Thank you for being the best Step Monster I could ever have asked for.