Goodbyes are awful. People don't tell you that when you're young, but they should. Or maybe some people do, but I don't remember anyone telling me that.
Yesterday I said goodbye to my oldest and dearest friend. After 5 days of literally doing everything together, it was weird to watch her walk through airport security alone. It kind of felt like she took a part of me with her.
It's different when you're the one leaving. As you go through security, you are thinking of the life that you put on pause, the things that you need to get back for, even the simple joys of flying. You think of the people you met and the things you did, trying to stamp them perfectly into your memory for fear that the instant the plane touches down and vacation ends, everything that happens will be forever erased.
But when you're the one that is left, you feel the emptiness and the loneliness. Vacation ends differently, suddenly. Rather than spending seven hours traveling home and hanging out in airports, it is just over. There's no buffer or transition. It all just kind of hits at once.
And then the next day is when the sense of loss hits. Because when she's still traveling, you have other things to think about. But when she lands at her home airport, it's truly over. And maybe this time next you'll fly to see her. But maybe it won't work out for one reason or another. And a year is hard enough to wait to see someone, let alone adding another six or ten months.
Because it isn't just anyone you're waiting to see. It's your person. It's the one person that you call when everything is bad. Or when everything is okay. Or when you're bored. It's the person you call so that they can tell you you're stressing over stupid things or that everything will be okay. It's the person that you've spent the past twenty years talking to - the person that you can't lie to, the person that can simultaneously drive you crazy and make themselves invaluable to your life.
And that's why goodbyes are awful.
This post could've been about any number of things we did. I could've talked about how much fun we had ice skating, about how wonderful it was to go out to dinner with my parents, about the time we spent in Joplin. I could've described the joy that I felt introducing Sarah to everyone that I know in Joplin - at the Sister Mountain Brother Sea concert, at a dinner party we hosted, at a breakfast we made, or even the lunch we cooked. I could've spent this post elaborating on the recipes we tried, on baking bread, making our traditional Chicken Divan, or the crazy places I made Sarah go to eat good local food. I could've even made you laugh with stories of dying our hair or shopping or the ridiculous things that Sarah said to me. This post could've been all about the incredible talks that we had and the decisions that we discussed.
But those memories - the funny or sad or ridiculous or happy stories - are the things that I have to hold onto as I wait another 300 or 400 days to see her. And I know the miracles of skyping and texting and facebooking and calling, but it isn't the same. I am grateful for those things, but I want to live in the same city as she does, to be able to walk down the street and have a cup of coffee with her. Because then we don't have to say goodbye, we just have to say see you later. And that has a much nicer ring to it.
For happier posts* about Sarah, you can look at these:
2011
2012
*sorry if this post is super depressing and a crappy first post in four months. first off, it's my blog - you don't have to read it. second, its second day blues. and school starts tomorrow. third, my hair and my nails are black. and I wore almost all black today. I get to be moody and depressing.
