Our tai chi master, Dr. Paul Lam, said something to us a few weeks ago at the end of a workshop we attended that has stuck with me: “Endings are simply the moment of new beginnings.”
I’ve always hated goodbyes.
All the way back when I was a little kid in Paraguay, and I’d have to say goodbye to my parents every Sunday as I boarded the bus to go for the school week into Asuncion, 81 kilometers away from their leprosy station.
I remember a hot summer day in 1963. I was 11. “Sei gaot – be good. Goodbye,” Dad said, as he pushed me in against the bulging human mass in the bus. I caught my bag on a wooden crate carrying a bunch of chickens. A dirty naked baby in his mother’s arms, snot running from his nose, tugged at my shirtsleeve. A man behind me rubbed himself up against my buttocks.
As the diesel engine started up, everything jostled side to side and I fought to not lose my bearings, standing with my feet far apart for stability. I looked out through the dust-covered large flat rear window of the bus just in time to see Dad’s station wagon disappearing over the hill behind us. Tears spilled from my eyes and landed on my shirt. Through my tears, I kept staring at the place where Dad’s car had disappeared from view. A strong magnetic thread seemed to pull my heart along behind that brown station wagon, even after it was out of sight.
My lips silently mouthed, “Please, Daddy, let me stay home.”
I’ve always hated goodbyes.
I remember the day my 15-year-old daughter Shareen walked away from me on the concourse at Kennedy International Airport, about to board a flight to Spain, where she would study for a year.
She turned around to face me just before turning the corner to disappear from my sight. A big grin on her face, she waved at me. “Bye, Mom.”
Just like around thirty years later, when my beloved Ed was being rolled into the OR to have his chest cracked open. Loopy on meds, he grinned at me and said, “Bye, love.”
“God be with you,” I whispered through my tears.
Next week I have to say goodbye to my Oregon community to go south for the winter. It’ll be good to be there.
But I hate the goodbyes.
So I have made Dr. Lam’s words my mantra during this time of transition: “Endings are simply the moment of new beginnings.”
Do any of you have difficulty with goodbyes? How do you deal with it?
Thanks for sharing this, Marlena. I can certainly relate. Although I am very privileged to go south for the winter, I have mixed feelings because it means I will miss the family and friends I leave behind.
Exactly! But when we really think about it, how fortunate we are that we feel sad to leave them rather than, “I can’t wait to get out of here!” Right?
I also feel the sadness associated with leaving and the experience seems so very real. However, strangely mixed with that sadness is an excitement about the next part of life that is about to begin.
When passing through a mindful moment, I realize that that emotions come and go like the clouds in the sky. I used to hope (or maybe even believe) that I should be able to hang on to joy. Having never been successful in that effort I now realize that this too shall pass.
What experiences do others of you have with the sadness and joy that passes through your lives?
Goodbyes can be emotional, especially with loved ones, dear friends (is there a difference?), beloved pets and even great vacations that are ending. Those emotions are, for me, often difficult to experience. Sometimes with heaving sobs, sometimes with a sense of longing but I try to remind myself that the sadness is temporary and will be replaced by sweet memories. Does it always work? No, but I do think it softens the difficulty.
Hey Jude. Thanks for landing on my site! Love hearing your thoughts. Yes, we can add sweet memories to new beginnings, both of them positive promises of goodbyes!
Saying “good-bye” has always been hard for me! I, too, remember being left at college as a freshman and the anguish I felt when my parents drove away. Now I always dread the times when family is together and knowing that we must part. We often check with each other, as we come close to that time, as to when we will be together again! But we must add – “the Lord willing” – only He knows if it will truly happen. One thing that helped me is what a niece (by marriage) who lives in Mongolia with her family told me. I asked her how she handled leaving her family and going so far away. She said she hugs, says parting words, and then leaves! Sometimes lingering too long makes it worse! Thanks again, Marlena. AB
Thanks for this Anna Beth! I’ll remember that. No lingering!
One of the hardest goodbyes for me was when I took our youngest to college. We had a little time before my flight home to Kansas so we stopped for a doughnut at Winchells Donut Shop. We were both sobbing so much that the donuts sat there untouched. A sad goodbye for me.
What a sweet image, Susan! Yes, I could have added that one, too…when my youngest Stefan was off for college. But in retrospect, that one too was a moment of new beginnings.
This is a beautiful reminder to love wholly in the moment and appreciate each other. Lovely post!
Thanks, Jeniffer. I think you might have meant “live,” but I much prefer the “love wholly in the moment”!!:-)
When I first saw Marlena’s post November 7th, there were no comments; but I thought about goodbye’s, and now one week later, there are lots of responses, and several touching on the significant ones I thought about too.
When I was headed out to college for my freshman year (many years ago), my parents drove me from our home in south Florida to Tulane in New Orleans. This was a huge deal for them because they seldom left home; they spent one day coping with city traffic and trying to find their way (before GPS) before leaving. I remember watching them pull away and feeling joyous, exuberant freedom. No sadness at all.
Years, later when we drove our daughter to college in Texas, she was elated at the start of her great adventure. We pulled away in tears. I’d like to think she had a twinge of sadness. But maybe not.
We probably often have a mix of emotions with goodbye’s: sadness mixed with appreciation of the precious time spent together.
Pat, your comment is really making me think…
I think what you say is mostly the norm: Grown (or almost-grown) children don’t usually feel the raw pain of goodbyes like we do as parents. Maybe because we have a greater awareness of the final goodbye??? My grown kids just smile that oh-mom-there-she-goes-again smile when they see my farewell tears.
What you’re getting me to ponder, though, is that this was not the case for me as a child or young adult. Saying goodbye to my folks, over and over again, was terribly painful.
I need to think about this some more. Does anyone else have thoughts about this?
Thanks, Pat!
I was not nearly so courageous as you Pat that first time my parents dropped me off in Boston for college. I had never been away from home and was scared. However, I was also determined to not return to their home in upstate NY until Thanksgiving, and by then much had changed. I don’t think our goodbyes were sad again for me for decades to come, as the world became an adventure to step out into.
What is it within our perspective that determines our reactions to goodbyes? Is it the awareness of finalities that Marlena points out?