Good-Byes

This is how I feel when I have to say good-bye (artwork by Gus Fink). I don’t like good byes. Good-byes bite. Good-byes suck (like the quality of this photo I took!).  Good-byes scream change is coming and I struggle to accept change – even when it’s good change (yes, I have issues – I know this). And why do I hate good-byes??? Because I had to do it so flipping often growing up.

Here’s the run down: Age 8, move to Mt. Eliza, Australia – good-bye friends in Kentucky. Age 12, move to Hudson, Ohio – good-bye friends in Australia. Age 14, move to Piedmont, California – good-bye friends in Ohio. Age 16, move to Modesto, California (really??) – good-bye friends in Piedmont. Age 18, move to Santa Barbara, California – good-bye friends in Modesto. Age 22, graduate, marry & move to San Francisco, California – good-bye friends in college & awesome room mates. Are you seeing a trend here?? Lots of moving, lots of good byes.

Some times I just want to freeze time. To hold on to friends, memories, moments, events. And I can’t. It all slips away. And logically I know change is totally normal and natural, but the kid inside me still hates good-byes. The old fear of never seeing people again rises up with each farewell – even if this is not the case. But it’s never the same again after the first good-bye. I know this to be true. And because of it I’m sure I’ve freaked many a person out when saying good-bye – it’s not a pretty site.

And so here is the time of year when I have to say good-bye to people heading off to college or to other dreams. Here is the time of year that I have to acknowledge my kids are one grade level higher – just that much closer to graduating. Here is the time of year that I have to say good-bye to the lazy days of summer. And on top of all the this I have to say good-bye to my beloved bug.

Yes, I am kissing my car good-bye. It appears we have a buyer for it & tomorrow it will make it’s journey to a new owner. Ok, ok. So it wasn’t all love and sunshine with this car – I confess there were moments of pure hate. BUT it’s what this car represents to me that makes it hard to say good-bye. This is the car I would have wanted as a teenager. This is the car I allowed myself to buy even though it may not have been the most practical. This was my growing up car. This car has seen me through some pretty dark days – days when the only happy thing I could grasp onto was the obnoxious green color of my bug. And this car saved my health – or at least my lungs – as I gave up smoking for this car.

So I’m faced with more good-byes. More change. More endings. But I know that every ending is really a beginning – I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.

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