© 2025 Amelie Chambord
The Goodbye That Came Too Soon
My nephew told me the night before that I didn’t have to get up when he caught his Uber for his early morning flight to Sydney. But, of course, I set my alarm for 3:55 AM anyway. I wanted to see him off, to say one last goodbye before our time together officially came to an end.
At 3:55 AM, I walked out to the living room, groggy but determined—only to find it empty.
He was already gone.
I rushed outside, heart sinking, and spotted him inside the Uber, already on his way. My sister stood in the driveway in her pajamas, watching as the car disappeared down the road. I stood beside her, both of us silently acknowledging the weight of the moment. That was it. That was our closing scene.
I felt a pang of regret for not stepping out of the bedroom at quarter to four. Just a few minutes earlier, and I could have had one last hug, one last moment. But time doesn’t wait. It never does.
Goodbyes rarely happen the way we imagine them. We picture dramatic airport hugs, heartfelt last words—but more often, they happen in a rushed moment, a missed Uber, or a fleeting wave from a driveway. Maybe that’s why we have to make the most of the moments before the goodbye, rather than hoping for the perfect farewell.
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” — Psalm 90:12
The past nine days in Australia had been full—full of laughter, family, reflection, and the kind of moments that you don’t realize are slipping away until they’re already gone. I wanted to hold onto them a little longer. But just like a song in the night, they faded, leaving only echoes behind.
Moonlit Conversations and the Art of Being Present
One of my favorite memories from this trip wasn’t a big, planned event. It wasn’t sightseeing, or a fancy dinner, or anything extravagant. It was just a walk to the beach.
On our way home to my sister’s place, we decided to take advantage of the bright moonlight and make a detour to Bokarina Beach. It was one of those nights where the air was just right—not too warm, not too cold, with little gusts of wind carrying the salty scent of the ocean.
We walked the wooden pathway leading to the sand, passing a few others who had the same idea. We exchanged polite “hellos,” sharing that unspoken look of “Yes, we’re the kind of people who take random moonlit walks instead of sleeping like normal humans.”
When we reached the beach, the moon shone brightly, casting a jagged reflection on the water. Clouds passed lazily across the sky, covering the moon in intervals, like a game of celestial hide and seek.
We admired the view, snapping photos that could never quite capture the feeling of the moment. The ocean was so vast, so endless, and yet, in that stillness, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just us, the sand beneath our feet, and the sound of waves breathing in and out.
It was one of those rare, fleeting moments where everything felt just right. Where life slows down long enough for you to actually notice it.
“Happiness, not in another place but this place… not for another hour, but this hour.” — Walt Whitman
Laughter After Loss
Grief is a thief. It steals light, it steals joy, and sometimes, it feels like it steals the ability to ever laugh again.
My nephew had been carrying a heavy weight since his mother passed. For a while, it seemed like laughter had been permanently replaced by silence. But this trip changed that.
I saw it in the way he relaxed around family, in the moments he let himself be present, in the little sparks of joy that surfaced when he wasn’t even looking for them. And then, the most unexpected gift—he told me that this was the first time he had laughed since his mother passed away.
That alone made everything worth it.
This trip wasn’t about escaping grief. It was about reminding him that joy can still exist alongside it. That life, even after loss, still has space for laughter.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18
What I’m Taking With Me
Leaving isn’t just about stepping onto a plane. It’s about deciding what you take with you—what stays imprinted in your heart long after the trip is over.
I’m taking the late-night conversations, the hushed laughter, the photo sessions in the dark, and the shared silences that spoke volumes. I’m taking the realization that moments like these are not small—they are everything.
And I’m also taking a reminder that Vegemite is a crime against taste buds and should never be trusted. But that’s a different kind of lesson.
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” — Oscar Wilde
Soul Insights
1. Time is a Privilege, Not a Guarantee.
Every moment we have with the people we love is a gift. Don’t wait for a “better time” to say what you feel, to show up, to be present. The best time is always now.
2. Joy and Grief Can Coexist.
Healing isn’t about erasing pain—it’s about learning how to hold joy and sorrow in the same space. My nephew’s laughter didn’t mean his grief was gone; it meant he was making room for both.
3. Presence Matters More Than Words.
Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do for someone is just to be there. Not to fix, not to advise—just to be.
4. Shared Memories Deepen Bonds.
We don’t always get to keep the people we love forever, but we do get to keep the moments. And those moments? They’re enough to carry us through even the hardest goodbyes.
5. Leaving Doesn’t Mean Letting Go.
Just because we leave a place doesn’t mean we leave behind the love, the connection, or the memories. The best parts come with us, shaping the next chapter.
Final Thoughts: Treasure Each Moment
As I step onto this plane, I hold onto the same message I left with my nephew:
Treasure each moment because we’re only given limited time with each other. Not everyone will be around forever. Enjoy the moments before they become a memory.
Leaving is inevitable. But what really matters is what we take with us—and what we leave behind in the hearts of those we love.
“I thank my God every time I remember you.” — Philippians 1:3
One Last Thought—For You
Think about someone you love.
When was the last time you laughed together? When was the last time you truly savored a moment with them? If it’s been a while, maybe today is the day to change that.
Send the text. Make the call. Plan the trip. Laugh together today.
Before it becomes a memory.
© 2025 Amelie Chambord
Soul Path Insights 
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