An odd dilemma of mine at the age of eight was why humans had the same hand movement for hello and goodbye. You would think that if one was sadder than the other, they’d have different actions right? Both include waving. How odd. I thought about random things like these, and definitely a lot about goodbyes.
Every now and then I would come across some sappy quote about how goodbyes aren’t as sad as we make them out to be. And yes, I suppose they don’t have to be, but try telling that to a crybaby of an eight year old who wouldn’t stop bawling after watching lion king. By the age of nine, I would sob quietly and by the age of ten it came down to just a tear or two. Just like that, goodbyes became less about the emotional reaction I had towards it and just the feeling. Over time I realised it’s not the goodbyes where you cry which hurt the most. It’s the ones where you don’t. Those really kill you. No tears but just a strong feeling of absence looming around you. You wish you could cry, almost hoping that it would act as a bandaid that you have to rip off after which you’ll be great.
And maybe that’s why the ones without tears stay longer. Because nothing in you marked the moment as “over.” So a part of you keeps going back, like it forgot to leave too.
But even then, life has a way of moving anyway. New routines slip in without asking. New people take up space in your life that you didn’t think was available. And one day you notice that the absence isn’t as loud as it used to be. It’s still there, just softer perhaps. I don’t think goodbyes ever really get easier. I think you just get better at carrying them.
And I didn’t realize how many goodbyes life would ask of me. There are parts of my life I’ve had to let go of- people I miss, places that don’t belong to me anymore. But none of them really left me empty. If anything, they left behind proof. Proof of loving and to be loved.