In Which We Examine the Nature of "Goodbyes"

It's raining pleasantly outside while I give a little thought to the Nature of Things. After a conversation with Deb about their nearing departure for Ukraine (next week), I was pondering the nature of goodbyes and how everyone seems to have their own way of dealing with them. Deb said that she didn't even want to say the word, and couldn't let herself think about leaving at all, but simply has to focus on the moment she's in.

I think that's a gift, because I don't seem to be able to control my mind that way. "Goodbyes" often loom over me like a mountain you approach from a distance, clouding my view of the present. I can't hide from it, but I really don't want to, either. I want to grip that dreaded word, shove it out of the closet, and lay everything out on the table. When it's my turn to go to Ukraine, you can guarantee I'll be goodbying for weeks before hand, driving you all crazy with sentimental speeches about possibly never seeing you again.

If I don't say goodbye, I feel like I'm denying the truth. Of course we say we'll meet again, but what if we don't? It's all fine and well to say "au revoir" and all that, sure, but I've got to face up to the fact that one chapter is closing and another chapter is opening. Closure. It would be like writing a book that moves straight through without breaking up into chapters and parts. And chances are, they wouldn't give it an ending, either. It would just leave you hanging there. And that's bad writing.

I'm not really sure if this has to do with liking to write, or if it's just my personality. But, for the sake of writing, I've delveloped a contemplative, observatory nature that insists on processing every detail of my life. Often in a journal, sometimes orally in a long-suffering ear. I've become an emotional glutton who wants to feel every emotion (even sadness) to its uttermost. It may be kind of a bother, but it is rather helpful when writing poetry about human nature.

So, even though Deb doesn't want to discuss it, they are leaving soon. On Sunday, after Bruce preached and Pastor Bo talked about them a little and there were those last songs on the piano, I really felt bereaved a little that they were leaving. I would be heartbroken, I think, except that I am pretty positive I'm going to see them in about three months. But I'll miss them during that time too.

All this is really just a bunch of psychogoobldegop. Bruce's message on Sunday really encouraged me in having an eternal perspective. The Crowes may be leaving Longview, and yes, there are people they will never see again. I will leave too, and even though I only plan to be gone a year or so, I don't know where further adventures will take me. My friends are growing up and leaving, just like I am.

Change gives me the creeps, but I wouldn't be happy without it. In the end, after all the psychoanalizing, I'm glad to know that it really doesn't matter at all. This life is just a freakish delay at the airport while we wait for our Flight Home. Like Keith Wheeler says, "Get supper ready, Jesus, I'm comin' home!" And when that happens, I probably won't remember to say goodbye.