The Last Goodbye

Honey For The Heart - 7

Pooh was sitting on a hilltop, watching the clouds drift by like quiet thoughts.
Piglet sat beside him, unusually quiet.

“Pooh…” he whispered, “did you hear about the Air India crash?
The flight that never reached its destination?”

Pooh nodded, eyes still tracing the sky.
“It didn’t make it past Ahmedabad,” he said softly.
“Out of 241 on board… only one survived.”

They both sat in silence for a long while.

“None of them would’ve known it was their last sunrise,” Piglet said, voice barely there.
“What do you think their final moments were like?
Were they scared?
Were they holding someone’s hand?
Was someone mid-message on their phone?
Was someone thinking of a goodbye they didn’t get to say?”

Pooh didn’t answer. He just held Piglet’s tiny paw.

After a pause, Piglet whispered,
“I keep thinking… it could’ve been someone we knew.
Someone we loved.
Could’ve been you or me!”
He blinked quickly.
“And I don’t even remember what I said the last time we parted.”

Pooh gave his paw a gentle squeeze.
“Piggy, most times we leave thinking we’ll return.
But sometimes… life doesn’t give us that chance.”

It makes everything feel smaller.
The rush. The worries. The planning.

Overhead, the sky grew ominously dark.
Below, two hearts sat heavier than usual.

In that moment, they made a quiet pact —
To never leave without a hug.
To always say a kind word before going.
To never take love for granted, or leave it unspoken.

Because the worst kind of sadness
isn’t just losing someone —
It’s not having said enough.
Not having held them just a little longer.
Not making sure they knew…
how deeply we loved them.

Life is unpredictable. Truly, all we have is now.

This post is a soft, aching prayer for all the lives lost — passengers, crew, medical students, and those on the ground… and all the hearts left behind.
No words can fill the silence they’re sitting with now.
But if love could fly across skies, we are holding each one of them — in heartfelt prayers. ❤️

When I first heard about the crash, it hit me in the gut. Not because I knew someone on that flight — but because of how sudden, how brutally final it was. Those people boarded that morning, unaware of what lay ahead. Some may have been on their way home to their children. Some off on holiday. Some simply tired, hoping for rest. And then — in one unthinkable moment — they were gone. No warning. No time. No chance to say goodbye.

I’m sitting here with a heaviness I can’t shake — helpless, aching — knowing no amount of words or sorrow can bring them back. There’s anger too. Not at anyone, just at life — for being so unpredictable, so unfair. For how it takes people mid-sentence, mid-dream, mid-life… and leaves behind an emptiness too loud to fill. What’s hardest to bear isn’t just the loss. It’s the silence left behind…the echoes of laughter from just two days ago. The wait at the door that will never end.

And in that silence, a truth begins to settle — life is far more fragile than we like to admit. We make plans, chase deadlines, keep postponing what truly matters… forgetting that even today is not promised.
That fight we left unresolved. That call we didn’t return. That hug we shrugged off. Sometimes, the deepest grief doesn’t come from losing someone. It comes from the love left unsaid, unexpressed.

So if you feel something for someone, say it. Don’t wait for a moment that may never come. Say it while you can — because love, given at any time, is never wasted. And someday, it may be the strongest light to hold on to… when the world feels unbearably dark.