The Finality of Saying Goodbye

I can never do it... I never say goodbye. Last week, I should have.

The beauty of this community lies in the interconnectedness many of us have with each other. I know, everything is supposed to be "private." I enjoy the banter many of you have with each other as you arrive and leave the clinic. Your quick communications updating each other on those in our community always intrigue me. Many of you probably don't realize, I hear the "send a card," "so and so's coming home," or how someone's kids are doing. I think that's what makes this community special. The genuine caring attitude consistently lives in our community because of you.

Liz called me yesterday after receiving an email blast from the Williamston Chamber of Commerce. I was saddened by the news. Clif McChesney passed away Thursday.

Clif and I only go back to the late 90's. Our paths converged when he needed physical therapy services. If my memory serves me right, neither my skill nor my knowledge could help resolve his pain. I always felt badly that I didn't have any answers or suggestions for him - only questions. To this day, I still wonder if that particular problem was a result of working with lead based oil paints day in and day out. I never found an answer, so I'll never know. Although I know I felt inadequate from that first interaction with Clif, I know he couldn't have felt the same about me because over the years through various other physical issues, I was consistently chosen by him and his wife to meet their physical therapy needs.

My world revolves around physical therapy. Every once in a while, a patient will somehow bring me into a new world and open my eyes to something I have no experience or background or knowledge. Clif and Jane, his wife, didn't do this only for me, but they did the same thing for our community! Think of Art in the Park, the Williamston Theatre, back when Cappuccino Express was around and all the art hung on it's walls and now the art hanging in Gracie's - Clif was a huge supporter of artful expression.

You know, Clif had a passion in art. I can confidently say, Clif  and his teachings influenced many artists at Michigan State University. Through his artistic work, he touched the lives of others. Clif's passion and talent took him places I know I'll never be. I remember during some physical therapy sessions hearing stories from when he was in Japan. I loved teasing him too - believe it or not, Clif wasn't comfortable in large crowds... or speaking to groups. That little intricacy about Clif just cracked me up. I had never experienced attending an art exhibit until the early 2000's when Clif and Jane invited me to Old Town to a gallery where their work was being showcased. I remember having no idea what to expect. I knew they both loved art and I knew they had such huge passion in art, I decided I wasn't going to miss an opportunity to learn more about what they loved. When their work was on display and they were showcased, there are people coming and mingling. It struck me as funny that Clif wasn't comfortable in that kind of situation (although he did it a lot)!

A couple of years ago, Clif was back in for physical therapy services. As we were problem-solving his current situation, I thought I had a brilliant idea. "Clif, maybe you need to have the painting you are working on at a different height. You know... like raised up using sawhorses." Again, Clif gently educated me on his technique and style. The paintings were like 10'x15' and the perspective and technique were to be taken from  a standing position while looking down at the ground. The technique involved painting with a brush from a standing position (thus a lot of bending forward). Clif knew I just didn't get it when I chuckled and said, "Maybe you could change your technique and hang it from a clothes line! Think of what an unstable surface would bring into the technique!" That idea was a no-go too...

Maybe a year ago, I met Clif and Jane at the Williamston Fitness Center. They both wanted to exercise year round, but needed some assistance on which machines and how to use the machines. Clif continually worked at improving his ability to function. He did both cardio work and weight training. I frequently saw them arriving as I was leaving from my swim workout. I was always touched by their commitment with this aspect of their lives. They didn't put themselves into a box and follow the typical belief system of people of their age. They weren't afraid of the physical work involved with becoming stronger and believed it was good for them. (They believed right, of course.)

Over a week ago, Clif was coming back to see me in the clinic. This time, I really, really knew I couldn't help. Things were so vastly different. This time, there was no joking or teasing. This time it was serious. In my heart, I will always, always wonder if I could have said something differently. I called and spoke to Clif a couple of days after I saw him in the clinic, because I just had to know how he was doing. Sadly... my last conversation with him involved me chastising him (in a kind way). I called again this week to see how Clif was doing and I was delighted when Jane told me Clif was hospitalized. I had that mental sigh of relief - he was in good hands and I had full confidence the right people were working with him.

I was wrong... and I never got to say goodbye. I never got to tell him I appreciated being introduced to his work. I never got to tell him I enjoyed seeing him and Jane whether it was in the clinic, at the fitness center or in the community. If I could tell him something now, I'd tell him the Northern lights, sunrises and sunsets are going to change because I think God is going to put him in charge of creating even greater beauty for the beginnings and endings of our days. Goodbye, Clif.... you will be missed.