Getting Through Goodbye

Goodbyes are never easy. Unless you are bidding farewell to credit card debt or an obnoxious in-law, goodbyes often carry a uniquely painful sting.

I have recognized over the years that I tend to take them particularly hard. Goodbyes can bring me down for days or weeks or months. From the seemingly harmless goodbyes of friends going away on a long vacation to the monumental ones of loved ones moving to another state to the insidious goodbyes of children growing up and moving on. Getting through goodbye is like getting through an emotional rugby match.

I always feel like I am on the losing team.

In trying to uncover the roots of my sometimes debilitating reaction to farewells, I contacted my mother.

“Mom, do you recall any particularly tearful goodbyes from my childhood?”

After realizing that I had said tearful, not cheerful, she reconsidered her original answers.

“Well, when you were 2, we moved away from your grandma in Arizona. I cried, Grandma cried, your dad didn’t cry, and you cried for nearly the entire drive to Texas. It was awful.”

OK, maybe we’re getting somewhere here, I thought.

“Anything else?” I ventured.

Silence.

“What about when Dad left?” I looked up at the ceiling and held my breath waiting for her response.

“Oh yeah, that one was pretty terrible, too. I guess you were about 6?”

I didn’t really feel like I wanted or needed to hear more about that one. I could sense it coming back to me.

“Anything else?” I asked with trepidation again.

“Hmmm …” Her voice grew quieter. “When I went into rehab the first time when you were 10, that was hard.” Long pause. “Oh, and then when your sister and I moved to California, and you stayed in Texas with your dad when you were 13. That one was a biggie.”

I lay down on the bed and took a deep breath. I wanted to laugh and cry all at once.

She started to list a few more. I stopped her.

“Thanks, Mom. I think that’s enough. I have enough information now. I really  appreciate your help.”

“OK." She sounded nervous. "Um, sure.”

We were both quiet. My heart went out to her; it went out to us both.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “They weren’t all bad times, really."

I cut her off. “Mom, I am not asking these questions to judge you or label any of the things that happened as good or bad, or right or wrong. I just want to understand myself a little better.”

I softened my voice. “I mean, I see people say goodbye to someone, get sad for a minute, and then move on. I’m just trying to figure out why it always seems so much harder for me than that. I feel like if I can figure out why I am the way that I am, then I can take steps to change the things that need changing. I can become one of those people who can move on and not get so stuck in the sad. You know what I mean?”

My mom was quiet for a bit. “Sure I do. I think it’s a great plan.” I couldn’t tell if she was crying. I told her I loved her, and we said goodbye.

After we hung up, I paced around my room for a bit. I started to feel downright giddy. My conversation with my mother had brought up some of the most painful memories of my childhood, and here I was, looking around my empty room, desperate to give someone a high-five and roll on the floor laughing.

I make sense! I thought. No wonder goodbyes take me down for so long. I am not a freak!

Relieved to discover that there were reasons behind my debilitating sadness at the sound of the word goodbye, I collapsed on my bed, smiling.  

I knew from that point on, it could all get easier. But I will have my work cut out for me as I learn new ways to get through goodbyes.

In a month, I will say goodbye to my friend as she boards a plane for  Sweden, where she will build a life with her husband and unborn child. In a few weeks, I will say goodbye to my son while he heads to his dad’s for six days straight—the longest we have ever been apart. In a week, I will say goodbye to my boyfriend while he heads off on another business trip. 

These goodbyes will be sad, for sure. But I can take steps to ease my own suffering. I can find ways to cope and be gentle with myself.

There are no doubt countless goodbyes in my future. I know now that they can only take me down for as long as I choose to let them.

And I will remember that each goodbye brings an unexpected surprise that I can only appreciate if I pick my head up out of my hands and wipe away my tears.

With every goodbye, there is a hello waiting just around the corner. I owe it to myself to be ready for it.