goodbye may

goodbye, may 2026

Say goodbye to the MGM Grand Buffet. It closes... permanently after service on Sunday, May 31st.show more

Even in goodbye, this German Shepherd stayed with his... fallen Navy hero.* *may contain AI mediashow more

Goodbye Malta.Goodbye Valletta, you wonderful golden city.I may never... see you again, so this is a tearful departure.show more

This is a phrase Japanese people use when saying... goodbye to someone they may never see again😔👋 #shibuya #tokyo #japaneseshow more

Say goodbye to paying commission and platform fees on... your trades, with CMC Markets. Capital at risk. A 0.5% FX fee may apply.show more

Summer 2023 Our first singles match began with a... handshake. I always wished this beautiful relationship would last forever. But #WinterIsComing.....it cannot begin the same way. Goodbye, my beloved Mariah May. December 11th will be a winter you’ll never forget. #Mariah_Mina #STARDOM #AEWshow more

THE LAST GOODBYE CINEMATIC EXPERIENCE — available worldwide May... 24th We’ve been flooded with people asking about the film and we can finally share that it will soon be yours. You can pre-order the Blu-ray as well as pre-order the film digitally atshow more

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un. My heart is... heavy as I say goodbye to my beloved uncle Saleh Shehu Ashaka RH He was young, cheerful, and always brought joy to everyone around him. After a long illness, he has returned to his Creator. May Allah grant him Rahamashow more

💔 Today in Vasylkiv, they said goodbye to 27-year-old... Anna Yefymenko. She was killed in a russian drone attack on the night of May 18. Her 4-year-old son is still in the hospital. How many more Ukrainian graves does this fucked-up world need to finally wake up?show more

One final goodbye to our beloved Rehbar The moments... are heavy and the grief is deep as the burial ceremony nears. May your soul rest in eternal peace Agha Jaan. You will never be forgotten🥹💔Alvida Rehbar-e-Man. Your legacy lives on in every heart you touched🍁✨#Tehranshow more

🚨GENERAL MCCASLAND: "After Neil got into a confrontation with... the solar panel guy he appeared upset and Susan told him to try to relax and after her appointment she would pick him up and then they would go to the gym to which he agrees. She said when she said goodbye to him it was normal and they kissed goodbye." Per the BCSO report, the "repair man" was actually a "solar panel guy" and McCasland reportedly got into a confrontation with him? Officials also believe a comment attributed to McCasland, "where you'll find me," may hold significance. Scanner traffic (listen below) from February 27, 2026 appears to show search teams reporting negative results near the Elena Gallegos Trailhead, the route leading to the Sandia Mountains "crash site," and the La Luz Trail. I think the "crash site" reference may instead be referring to the historic 1955 TWA Flight 260 wreckage, a well-known landmark accessible from the Domingo Baca Trail.show more

Heartbreaking News 🐾 💔 Today, we bid farewell to... our beloved German Shepherd, who came into our lives when rescued in April. Despite recovering from infections, her kidney function declined. She spent her entire life with a breeder, but we were blessed to have her in her last few months. She brought immense joy and took a piece of our hearts with her. 🌈 It's never easy to say goodbye to these precious rescue souls. May she find eternal peace and know that she was deeply loved. #InLovingMemory #RescueDog #ForeverInOurHearts 🐾❤️show more

Today, I lost my metallic brother, my friend, my... family. Just yesterday, you called me to invite me for the 2026 thanksgiving. We spoke like there was still time not knowing that would be the last time I’d ever hear your voice. If I had known, I would have stayed on that call longer. These clips… they’re from our last ride together. Exactly on this day Last week. We rode like we always did, free, alive, happy. I didn’t know I was making my last memories with you. After the ride, you called me and said, “May our bond remain like this forever.” And now those words are breaking me. You died doing what you loved most, but that doesn’t make the pain easier. It doesn’t make the silence louder any softer. It just makes the absence heavier. You were one of the rare ones. A good heart. A real soul. A brother I never thought I’d have to say goodbye this soon. I keep replaying our moments, our rides, our laughter… wishing I could go back just once. Rest easy, my brother.show more

Goodbye, Pearl My heart is still somewhere out in... that driveway, laid out flat like it just got the Holy Ghost and passed clean out. Today, I had to say goodbye to Pearl. Now Pearl wasn’t just an SUV. Pearl was my last rolling piece of freedom. She was my pre-ALS independence sitting on four tires. She was my “I’ll be right back” machine. My “let me run to the store” chariot. My “I don’t need nobody to take me nowhere” declaration with leather seats and a clean paint job. And today… she left me on the back of a tow truck like she was being taken to glory. That hurt. The last time I sat behind Pearl’s steering wheel, ALS made something painfully clear. I was sitting at a red light, needing to make a simple right turn. Simple for everybody else. But my arms said, “Oh no, we don’t do that anymore.” Cars behind me started blowing their horns like they were in the Indy 500 and I was holding up qualifying. I’m sitting there sweating, praying, negotiating with my limbs like, “C’mon y’all, just one more turn. ONE.” I wanted to yell, “Y’all better be glad I can’t get out this truck!” But truth was, I was scared. For the first time in my life, I knew I was not safe behind that wheel. Somehow, I used my legs to help force that turn, then drove home with fear sitting in the passenger seat. When I pulled into the driveway and climbed down out of Pearl, I knew. That was it. I dragged myself into the house and told Tanja my heart was broken. I wasn’t just giving up driving. I was giving up another piece of the man I used to be. So Pearl sat in the driveway for ten years, looking like a museum exhibit titled, “Before ALS Had the Nerve.” My girls used her sparingly—very sparingly after Sydney forgot to stop at a stop sign and introduced Pearl’s front bumper to somebody else’s rear end. After that, Pearl went into semi-retirement. Family members would ask, “Can I borrow the truck?” And I’d be sitting there thinking, “Borrow? That’s Pearl. That’s not a truck. That’s family.” But Pearl started coming back with scratches nobody knew about, “Not me.” “Wasn’t there before.” “I don’t remember.” And don’t get me started on the gas tank. I’d hand her over full, she’d come back thirstier than a man in the desert. Apparently, Pearl had been traveling with witnesses who all suffered from sudden memory loss. So today… I kissed her goodbye. Literally. Leaned in, pressed my forehead to hers, and whispered, “Thank you.” Watching her get winched up onto that tow truck felt like watching my past drive away without even turning around to wave. And when that tow truck pulled away, I laughed a little. Then I hurt a lot. Because sometimes letting go isn’t about the thing itself. It’s about what that thing represented. Pearl was freedom. Pearl was strength. Pearl was before. But even as she rolled away, I reminded myself: ALS may have taken the keys, but it never took my memories. It never took my gratitude. And it sure didn’t take my ability to laugh through tears. So goodbye, Pearl. You were loved. You were loyal. And Lord knows… you were patient with my family. Now let me go sit down before I start ugly crying like Tanja did over that Mercedes.show more

We brought Oliver home believing we were simply giving... him a place to say goodbye. It sounds blunt, but that was our mindset. He was 14 years old, a senior mixed-breed dog with cloudy eyes and a slow, careful walk. His shelter file was labeled “hospice placement.” His previous family had surrendered him, saying he slept constantly and struggled to get around. We assumed we were offering him comfort for whatever time he had left. We set up thick orthopedic beds throughout the house. We added ramps to avoid the stairs. We planned for soft mornings and calm, quiet evenings. In our hearts, we thought we were preparing for a gentle farewell. Oliver had something entirely different in mind. The first week, he mostly slept. Not the restless kind of sleep, but the deep, peaceful rest of a dog who finally feels secure. By the second week, something shifted. He seemed to realize he wasn’t going back. This wasn’t temporary. This was home. During the third week, he discovered an old plush toy tucked in a basket. It wasn’t new or impressive. Just a worn, simple stuffed animal. But he carried it everywhere. That’s when the fragile dog we thought we were losing seemed to vanish. The pup who was said to “barely walk” began padding confidently through the house, toy held proudly in his mouth. The one who supposedly “slept all day” started nudging us awake at sunrise, plush prize in tow, ready to begin. In the evenings, he’d sit with it clutched close, almost protective, as if afraid it might disappear. That’s when it became clear. Oliver wasn’t fading because of age alone. He wasn’t giving up. He had been lonely. He had grown used to cold floors and feeling forgotten. Now he’s still 14. He sneaks food from the kitchen counter when we’re not looking. He races me to the backyard gate. And he continues to carry that same little stuffed toy, a quiet symbol that happiness found its way back to him. We may not have succeeded in providing hospice care. But we witnessed something better. We gave an old mixed-breed dog a reason to keep going, and in return, he reminded us that love doesn’t just extend a life. Sometimes, it restores it.show more