Long Goodbyes

I sit here this morning anticipating good-byes. This is the way I seem to do it – try to get through the difficult part of separation ahead of time, before it happens, and privately too so that when the time comes, I can handle the emotion of it and not embarrass myself by crying.
In the family that I grew up in, you said goodbye, shut the door and drove off -all within a minute or less. Emotions were not acknowledged or shared, and there was no weeping, no outward sign of anything but the ordinary. Holding one another in a long embrace was unthinkable. I don’t believe that we were a hard- hearted bunch -- afraid of emotion maybe, certainly unaccustomed to outward expressions of love. I had to find my own path and somewhere along the way I developed this other way - of anticipating the loss, and privately letting my heart do its work ahead of time. But still, when the moment of goodbye arrives, the old habit of shutting down often takes over -my voice disappears and I retreat inside myself shutting the door behind me, peering out my inner windows as they drive away.
Today, June 6, 2008 is one of those days. An empty barn and pasture await us in just a few hours. The fencing will hold in only memories of a long legged girl cantering a flea-bitten gray Arab up the road bare-back; then Sunday our long legged girl herself, drives off and leaves behind a bedroom and home empty of her sunny spirit and helpful hands. And the house will be quiet again.

I generally like quiet, but the empty-quiet left in the wake of separation is painful and it takes a few days to adjust. You would think that I’d be used to it by now. It has been a long series of goodbyes, this business of kids flapping out of the nest. They have come back and gone again, and come and gone, and come and gone. But then, one time everything tells you that they are gone and will be mostly visitors from now on, taking their lives beyond you. The familiarity of living together is over.
When the kids were young and I was home with them, David would sometimes have to leave on a trip. I dreaded the being left behind -the screen door banging on the door jam, then silence, or the car engine noise fading. “What if he never comes back?” was my inner terror. I could imagine no more hideous happening, and was swallowed up by nightmares of car accidents and funerals. Before a trip, I would distance myself from him, hoping to reduce the pain. It didn’t work, and it took a long time to reconnect emotionally when he got back. There was a lot of childish thinking rooted in a big insecurity inside my head. What brought the most relief was to forgive him for leaving me, which sounds silly also. David has stayed, thankfully for twenty eight years now and somewhere along the way, I learned to trust both him and that I would be alright no matter what happened, no matter what loss I would sustain, no matter who left me. I gradually learned to accept feelings as a natural part of my inner being and believe that it’s not the end of the world if others see me cry even though I would prefer that they don’t.




There is more. The learning is not over. My cousin Dennis is teaching me another thing or two. He specializes in long good-byes. It might go something like this. The work or the meal, or the event is over, and we stand and talk, and the conversation comes slower and slower. There is something else on our minds. It is about leaving, separation, the driving away, and it is dreaded. Somehow we want to say something else, something that might not fit. It’s something about “next time” and “soon” and something about the love between us. Intruding into the center is a need to affirm that the bond, the love, will not be broken with the parting.

David’s folks also specialize in long goodbyes, and I believe that all these things are happening within as well, but they are tender heart things, and there is a risk of a tear or a quavering voice, of looking weak, and that might break our image of controlled togetherness. Somehow we just never step over the line. There is the polite hug, the appropriate words that poke at it, but never fully embrace the reality: we love each other, we need each other’s love. And we drift into this semi-painful, stifling and unreal goodbye that stretches out endlessly. Until Dennis, I could never really picture what it would be like to let out what is longing to get out, nor could I imagine how it would turn out or if it would bring relief or not. I’ve had a chance to find out.
Into this unknown zone, Dennis comes, ignoring all the warning signs. To my utter shock he says what’s on his mind. If he needs to get back out of his car to do it, he does. He gives the long embrace, he speaks those powerful words. He does it, and I stand frozen in the moment. He is direct and honest and I think, brave. I am slightly surprised that I do not self destruct. Nor do I melt down to nothing and disappear. When he finally does drive off, the air is clear, and the silence left behind is warm, the emptiness has a slight glow. I find I am his understudy in these matters.

What would my family look like if I would have learned to do this years ago? Why not, for pity’s sake, speak words of love and affection? Why not? I am becoming convinced that love cannot be broken by time and space. Why am I surprised? After all, the scriptures say, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God….” Finally I’m beginning to grasp this, and I am glad it’s not too late. This time Emily will leave and I will stay with it. I will tell her that I love her and that I’ll miss her. I will hug her tightly for as long as she wants. Tears may fall, but so be it. And we will take as long as it takes.