The Final Goodbye

The rusted red paint on the old barn appeared faded beyond its years. The sky, too, devoid of any cheery brightness, shrouded the immediate landscape in a solemn bleakness, as if even the inanimate objects and elemental forces were mourning the death of the proprietor of the farm, Nicki’s grandfather.

She squared her shoulders towards the barn door, the left side slightly drooping due to a loose hinge. Nicki zipped up her fitted, puffy charcoal vest. It felt like the vest was the only thing keeping her chest from opening up and spilling out.

Nicki glanced down at her now dirty boots lamenting her obviously poor choice of designer wear for walking the dusty inroads. She wiped her short, wavy hair from her face and prepared herself for one final goodbye.

She had spent weeks here at the modest farm every summer for five years, in the glory days of her youth. It started when she was old enough to be of some help with the chores but ended when she decided her summer social life was too important to be interrupted.

The farm experience was quite a contrast to the busyness of growing up and now currently residing in the heart of the city. Even in the dead of night, the city is never quiet. It took her the first few days after arriving every trip here to not be unnerved by the stillness of the country.

Now, the farm seemed even quieter than Nicki could remember.

She lifted her foot to take a step toward the barn but withdrew quickly, crunching the loose dirt and gravel below. Nicki knew that avoiding the barn wasn’t going to bring her grandfather back but somehow entering it now felt like it would make the situation more final.

It was no mystery that guilt was what was currently paralyzing her – guilt that she hadn’t visited the farm in 10 years; guilt that her phone calls to her grandfather had become more infrequent as time slipped by. Something always seemed to come up with work. Other times, she just wanted to guard her personal time without obligation, a choice that she could no longer make up for.

Nicki had always rationalized her lack of visits and calls with the thought that her grandfather was as content as he could be with his life, surely used to being a widower after decades alone. Her grandmother had died when Nicki was just a toddler. Based on the stories she overheard as a child, her grandmother was a rather strong character, a contrasting match to her grandfather’s gentle nature.

By all accounts, Nicki’s grandmother had a booming voice that her children could hear from leagues away. She seemed to have only one volume and that was three levels above loud. Family lore had it that her grandmother could not be subdued to a whisper if her life depended on it.

Her inflexible opinions on basically all topics of discussion were also infamous, as was her signature bossiness. To her credit, she was remembered for giving the softest hugs, though her intensity at time led her children to believe that she could melt them with a look if they were to ever step out of line.

Nicki once asked her grandfather, about ten years after her grandmother’s passing, if he missed her and felt lonely.

“Nicki girl,” he replied in his slow, deep voice while pushing his overly large and sagging glasses up his sizeable nose, “To tell you the truth, I don’t feel all that lonely because I know your grandmother is still close. She’s not the type of person let me run things myself without her oversight, lack of a physical body be damned. You want to know how I know?”

Nicki was watching the memory in her mind’s eye as clear as day. Everything in the picture had a golden hue, an unnatural brightness, touched by the magic of nostalgia. She saw her 13-year-old self nod her head hesitantly as she leaned in to hear her grandfather’s confession.

“A few months after she died, I was a wreck. I wasn’t keeping up with the farm chores. I was eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for all meals – if I was eating at all. Your grandmother and I had such a steady rhythm to our life for many years and now everything was out of sync. I was out of sync with life. But there was still the farm to run.

One day, I went into the barn to get some tools. I remember thinking about how much I missed your grandmother and wondering what I was going to do with my life. I had slumped against the wall and started crying. Then I heard a strange scratching noise up high in the barn. I looked up to see a large barn owl perched on one of the supporting beams. In the middle of the day! The barn owl screeched at me several times – such an awful, ear-piercing shriek – and flapped its wings aggressively toward me. It would pause and look straight at me and then begin screaming and flapping all over again. This must have gone on for a few minutes.

I was so stunned by the spectacle. Barn owls are nocturnal animals, you see. They only come out and hunt at night and sleep during the day. There was no natural reason for this bird to be out in the middle of the day interrupting my pity party.

And then it came to me that this was a special sign from your grandmother. I mean, only she could be as loud and as forceful as that owl was. I knew it was her saying to get over my sadness and to get myself together and to do what needed to be done.

I even waved my hand at the owl and told it to stop nagging me, that I had heard it….her. And ever since that day, I started getting my life back in the swing of things. I fell into a new rhythm, and though I get lonely sometimes, I think about the owl and that your grandmother is watching me. So, I try to make the most of things. Trust me, I don’t want to be shrieked at the rest of my days.”

Nicki allowed herself to be gently pulled back into the current time. She was surprisingly amused by replaying the story, having seen the significance much differently now than she could as a teenager.

It gave her some comfort to think that her grandfather had made peace with his life. Still, she felt guilty for a lack of connection with him over the last few years. She always took for granted that he would just be there, living on the farm, as he had done her whole life.

A piercing gust of wind jostled Nicki from her moments of reflection. She lifted her foot again, but this time, she saw the motion through and moved toward the barn. The rusty handle gave her a little struggle but with a silent grunt, she worked her way into the shadows and dust of the old barn.

The barn of her childhood had a kind of quaint, rustic magic. Now it just felt (and smelled) old and lifeless. The once rich brown beams had taken on a new tone: rot. Small piles of hay were haphazardly strewn around, accenting the graveyard of rusted tools.

This was not the final goodbye memory Nicki was hoping for.

Her disappointment coalesced into anger and then pooled into a deep well of sadness. She crossed her arms to aid her vest in keeping her held together as single tears began to drip on the muddy floor.

Nicki wished she could know if her grandfather had ever felt abandoned by her – if he needed her and she wasn’t there. Did he ever pick up the phone hoping to hear her voice? Had he counted the years since her last visit?

She just wanted a way to know that her grandfather still loved her and didn’t feel like she let him down.

Uncontrollable sobs escaped Nicki lips.

In between the wails of pain, she became subtly aware of a scratching noise echoing throughout the barn. She calmed her crying to heavy breathing and became quieter and quieter as the noise became louder and louder.

On instinct, Nicki raised her head against the weight of her flowing tears. High up in the barn, she saw an owl. A large barn owl. A large barn owl flapping its wings vigorously and shrieking with the most ear-shattering tone.

As the owl settled its wings, a new form appeared to its side. Nicki squinted to discern what was in the shadows. It was difficult to make out initially. A second owl appeared, slightly smaller than the first. It did not make a peep in response to the squawking of its partner – just merely tilted its head from side to side. Nicki curiously observed that it had a larger beak and darker facial feather arranged in large circles around the owl’s eyes.

In wonderment and immeasurable gratitude, Nicki brought her hand to her trembling mouth and closed her eyes tightly, the last of her tears curving over her cheeks.

Nicki knew she had her answer. And with that, she bowed to the majestic creatures, hand to heart, turned around, and left the barn for the final time.