Goodbye is a privilege.
Taking the time to reflect on a moment with a loved one, to revel in the fleeting ticks and tocks of every second, to take in their scent in one last warm embrace, knowing that this could be the last time, that’s a huge burden for the soul to bear.
But it is still a privilege. To get to acknowledge that “this is it” with someone you care about? That’s the dream.
I’ve had the happy goodbyes, the sad goodbyes, and a lot of goodbyes I wish I could do again.
But nothing hurts like unsaid goodbyes, the ones that leave a window in your soul creaking as it sways, waiting to be closed.
The real pain comes from not saying a proper goodbye because you’re in a hurry to watch some game you can’t even recall now.
The real pain comes when you have to just go, go, go—to carry on and watch people go about life like this great tragedy you’re going through means nothing to them.
The real pain hits you when you try to call one last time, but the phone number has been reassigned to someone who doesn’t even speak the same language.
The real pain grips your soul when it starts to dawn on you that you will never see them again—and your memory of their face has started to fade.
And that’s when the guilt hits you. That’s when you wish you’d said a proper goodbye the last time.
