No Good in Goodbye

Sometimes good things end.

All those moments were ours, 

In those times, things were real.  

What we had was definite and 

Shall live beyond our existence. 

No one can ever take it away from us.  

Not then, not now, not ever. 

Think back to a time when you were compelled to say goodbye. Not just for a moment, but for good. Whether it was a pet, a dear friend, or that person who you chose never to return to, despite the ardent desire that begged you not to leave.

Saying goodbye is often harder than a simple word. “Bye” typically means “Farewell, until we meet again,” but the stinging goodbye encapsulates an aura of soul-ripping, a skin-crawling feeling of resistance. These are not good goodbyes. They bring an ache, an ache of the past not being a reality of the future. The intensity of the aversion and opposition only reiterates the fact that what was there was something beyond replacement. 

The specks of tears of joy, the feeling that time only exists for you. In those moments, you were infinite. It’s the moments of your first with someone, some place. It’s the memories of when you became your raw, complete self. When there was room for imperfection, with no inhibition of your soul laid bare. Those moments are the most painful things to part with. 

Recently, I parted ways from something that was just that. It evoked parts of my nature previously unknown to me. I discovered and unraveled more of myself, found parts I didn’t know were hidden. It moulded me into the person I am. 

Now, the memories pinch and poke from time to time. It makes me wonder what went wrong. But sometimes nothing goes wrong. Sometimes, even when things go right, they don’t align with your future. Those are often the hardest to accept. It’s the knowing that nothing else could be done, that things have run its course, and the goodbyes are still inevitable. It’s the bittersweet feeling of saying goodbye when there are no other courses of actions left but to leave with bountiful memories and with acceptance of the unavoidable. 

Even though I'm hurting, it doesn't take away all the delightful and loving memories I made with them. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I’d do it in a split second. Those memories outweigh the pain. The pain is secondary to being loved, cared for, appreciated. 

Time doesn’t heal things of the past. Time gives us perspective. Time makes the memories, the good and the bad, easier for us to live with. In 30 years from the last goodbye, you’ll recall the pain, but also something more: a sensation of nostalgia mixed with the fuzzy feeling of warmth and love. In that time, all that would matter is that it happened, that it was real. After all, goodbyes are meaningless. Without the moments that come before it.