goodbye

"Where is the good in goodbye?"
-- "Sincere" from The Music Man

Friends of mine dropped their son off this past weekend at boarding school, 650 miles away from home.  His mom said first about the goodbye, It was better than I thought, but when she continued to tell me about their final moments together, tears spilled over without warning.

I'm horrible at goodbyes.

A couple of months ago (and just two weeks ago, for that matter), I backed out of Mom and Dad's driveway, waving goodbye to Christopher, Katie, and Little Man.  I barely got to the road before a minor meltdown ensued.

I just felt the weight of being separated from family, from celebrating milestones, from every day life spent with the people you love most.

I remember when I first knew good and well, that me and goodbye would never be friends.

After my college graduation, I moved to New Orleans to start an internship.  As my family pulled out of the parking lot of my new apartment, I stood and watched, and cried like a blubbering fool.

I'm talking about the uninhibited, shoulder-shaking, visible sobbing.  The ugly-girl cry.

That day goes down in my personal history as a) a particularly pitiful display of self-control, and b) a defining moment when I realized that goodbyes are sophisticated, and complex.

They are endings, and beginnings.

They can be short, or long.

Healthy, or devastating.

Awkward, or routine.

Understated, or dramatic.

Temporary, or permanent.

Communicative, or silent.

Painful, or hopeful.

They might be unintrusive in the moment, but sneaky later on, when they slip into your heart unannounced, unexpectedly, leaving only a catch in your throat and a sting in your eyes.

Goodbyes don't care about your circumstances.

They're just hard sometimes.

Is it just me?  Or do you, too, wrestle hard with that little word?