Why does goodbye feel like the hardest word to say?
I would like to think it’s a word we don’t need.
I wish we could just pretend there was never a reason to go our separate ways, to close books, to end chapters, walk out doors and shut the curtains one last time.
In fact, I wish we could do away with all the one last times, and live life without so longs, without farewells. Just saying see you soon instead.
I’ve always hated goodbyes. They don’t feel right; they feel every kind of wrong there ever was, all stacked up in two syllables and seven letters with a horrible kind of sound.
Endings, no matter how little and insignificant they may be in the grand scheme of things, they’ve always left me with tears in my eyes, with shaky hands and with quakey knees.
I sometimes think this heart of mine wasn’t made to shelter a word as difficult as goodbye. But that doesn’t mean my heart hasn’t held it, hasn’t felt it.
I’ve had to say goodbye, even when the very center of me seemed to shy away from it. Let me tell you, I’ve had endings.
I’ve shut doors, and I’ve stood on the other side as they were slammed in my face by my not-so-good friend goodbye.
Goodbye has visited me in hospital rooms, in phone calls carrying bad news, in the way his voice broke and cracked, in graduation caps. Goodbye has come to me in a million disguises, teaching me some lessons I would have rather left unlearned.
But I am trying to make my peace with goodbye. I’m trying to learn to take goodbye by the hands. Because as much as I wish it was not so, I’ve not yet done the last of my goodbye-ing.
I am trying to believe that though this life is pre-packaged with goodbyes, it also comes with some beautiful hellos.
And that those rare and lovely, softly murmured hellos sometimes make all the difference.
-Jessi Sanders 2012