When my husband and I moved into our new house, I realized that this — our little patch of home in the middle of the Mojave desert — is the first place since I was 16 that I will have lived for over a year. First it was boarding school, then university, then work, then military life. There was always some life event — as major as marriage, as minor as a whim — to move on, to settle elsewhere, and there were always people to leave behind, with a heavy heart and a lump in my throat.
Despite the fact I’ve done it time and time again, I still hate goodbyes.
I hate goodbyes because, in reality, goodbyes aren’t over when the scene cuts. We linger with awkward gestures, and slowly, suddenly, we part off into our own lives, heads filled with reminders to pick up eggs and return library books. We slip back off into our separate, complex, mundane lives, unable to dwell too long on the dull ache of separation.
I hate goodbyes because they really do mean the end, all too often. We tell ourselves we’ll Skype often and be reunited soon, but life’s current is strong: new friends, new obligations, new frustrations. We end up in different time zones, with different working hours, and suddenly even something so minute as a casual FaceTime needs to be meticulously plotted out.
We realize that visit will cost us half a paycheck, and bills triumph over reunions. We forget to text each other those little details — “I’m getting a haircut!” “I got promoted!” — so we end up adding a throwaway like, a quick comment, when news spreads to social media.
I hate goodbyes because they still feel unreal, even in the moments after we part ways. I hate goodbyes because the real sadness doesn’t kick in until days, even weeks later, when I hear that jingle that cracked us up, or I stop for coffee at “our” place, and we’re not just there together any more. We might send a meager text message, to be glanced at and digested in a heartbeat.
I hate goodbyes because I am childishly jealous, too, knowing that we’ll both find other people with new inside jokes and new favorite coffee shops.
I’m glad that I’ve learned to be resilient. I’m glad for the opportunity to have met so many delightful people. I’m glad that, despite the swift friendship and the hard goodbye, I have made best friends for life, regardless of distance and time.
But when we part, I still hate goodbyes. Every time, in every place, I hate goodbyes.
