There’s a sadness around it. “Good-bye” sounds permanent. “Good-bye” feels like losing pieces of yourself you never knew could go missing. You didn’t expect them to run off. You trusted that those pieces would stay, even if you knew, logically, one day, you’d have to part. It’s the saying of, “It would never happen to me. That happens to other people” swept from underneath your feet in a flurry.
My worst “good-byes” have been to people. My worst “good-byes” have been to places I thought I would see again, but haven’t. My worst “good-byes” have been to things I took for granted and, then, disappeared.
And the worst part about every “good-bye” is the piece of me they take. I think I’m a preserved person and that people don’t take pieces of my heart without me willingly giving them away. That’s not true. Sometimes, they’re demanded. Sometimes, they’re stolen and it isn’t until I go looking for them, I realize that they’re gone.
Sometimes, the light is the darkness. Not grey. Not muddled together. But separately. After all, the stars need the darkness in order to shine.
And with every “good-bye”, I find a million stars sprinkled down on me in the form of memories. The bad memories burn out over time and the good ones are like supernovas. They become the light behind the projector screen of the past as memories replay before me. They flow in and out without so much demand as to just pay attention. Joy fills the heart just long enough to give a laugh or a smile. That’s the beauty of “good-bye”.
And, then, there are times when I experience something new. New people. New places. New things. And, without warning, I find a little piece of myself I thought had gone missing. A piece I thought I lost forever, right there, tucked in the corner of a coffee shop or that girl’s laugh. Though I can’t take it with me, I know I can return. I rest assured that that piece still exists, somewhere. That’s the beauty of “good-bye”.
And the best part of “good-bye”? Surely, no one thinks there’s any good part. But there’s always good to be found. The best part? The best part is saying “hello”. It’s the moment you find yourself saying “hello” as they walk through the door after saying “good-bye” months ago. It’s the moment you find yourself by your old childhood place, enjoying the air around it. It’s the moment you discover something new, just like what you said “good-bye” to, but more extravagant, more special. It’s the moment you realize that that “good-bye” wasn’t a death afterall, but a preparation for “hello”.
That’s the beauty of “good-bye”.