Octobers are for Goodbyes

It’s been a while since I’ve written here. Life seems to always find a way of sucker punching you and leaving you doubled over in pain. It’s not that I have stopped writing. I haven’t. I never stopped. All my writings were just extremely personal, extremely raw and unfiltered, something that I needed to pen to process through life’s unexpected blows. Hemingway was quoted to have said, "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” In these past few months, the ink in my journal could very well be blood. And tears.

I never planned on it, but, somehow, the many Octobers of my life have been about goodbyes. Once or twice might be chucked as happenstance; however, when you’ve developed some kind of muscle memory for goodbyes in October, where you have come to expect saying goodbye in the tenth month of each year, it’s getting ridiculous.

Eight years ago I packed up my apartment and said goodbye to a city that has adopted me - along with the friends I have made during my time there. Seven years ago today, I said goodbye to my dad. I have said goodbye to friends, to ones who adopted me as family. I’ve said goodbye to failed relationships. I’ve said goodbye to a friendship that turned sour. I’ve said goodbye to the comfortable known for the unknown.

So what have I learned from my experiences with goodbyes?

First, I’ve learned that I hate goodbyes. Some people don’t care as much. At some point, someone close to me told me that I care too much. I do. I can’t just not care. So goodbyes, no matter how normal it is, sucks. Even when a change is welcome, goodbyes suck. Change doesn’t settle well with me.

Also, I suck at it. I’m terrible. Some goodbyes give you an opportunity for parting words. Some sort of closure. Others are anticlimactic. A quick and trivial “bye” with full expectations that you’ll see them again in a few hours. Never knowing that the rushed goodbye was much more final than you can ever plan for. Me, the person with the words, can never do it right. I can say everything and still feel like I haven’t expressed myself enough. I can say nothing and get overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things left unsaid. When dad passed, I remember the question I had in my mind: Did he know I love him? My last conversation with mum was a three-minute phone call that ended with “I love you” two days before she passed. Whether there was time for goodbyes or not, whether there were words or not, I am terrible at goodbyes.

Goodbyes pick on the scabs of my greatest fear. My greatest fear in life is to be forgotten. There’s this scene from an old miniseries called “Merlin”, where Queen Mab, the villain, was defeated by people (and history) forgetting her. I don’t want to be her, dissipating into nothingness. I think I struggle, as an adult, with object permanence. It’s something little kids develop as they grow: the knowledge that just because they can’t see something, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Goodbyes sometimes make me believe that the entire relationship disappear when I don’t see it tangibly. Poof!

If you’re reading this expecting a life lesson on goodbyes, I have to disappoint. I don’t have many inspirational words or wise tidbits to share. I’m just bleeding on to the page here. (Thanks, Hemingway.) This post is short, I don’t have much more to say on the topic. Also, I don’t want to bum you out. Especially those of you who love Octobers with its crisp winds, falling leaves, and fall smells. As I said earlier, I’m starting to post again. Losing mum ripped me apart, if I can be honest. So I’ll write on that. Well, maybe not that in detail. This month, I want to write about grief. (Oh great, Tirz, bum us out some more.) In trying to deal with my own, I looked up how others have dealt with grief. I’ve found solace in writings and stories. In listening to stories. And I want to take some time to share them. So October, in the best way, is for goodbyes.