This isn’t the first time writing about this, but I must reiterate and stress over the detail that I really suck at saying goodbye- almost to a point I hate them.
Most recently, a friend named Melody who I’ve held dearest to my heart had returned for a visit. I was most excited to see her again after the development of our friendship throughout her absence. Before her initial departure overseas in April 2015, we were blessed with the opportunity to properly get to know each other. Her sister (who I was then dating for 5 years) had already left to Japan, which placed me in a situation where it was hard for myself to interact with her family as comfortably as when she were here. I felt my only connection to my ex’s older sister, brother and parents were through her, and when she left the country it felt as if I had no real reason to see them anymore. That wasn’t the case. In her sister’s absence, she (Melo) would check-in with me to see how I was adjusting to a life with a (temporary?) void. She knew I wasn’t well at heart and she was right. I would talk to her very often on how I felt about my situation. I hated my life. I hated how every effort and dedication I committed to suddenly vanished as if it never happened.
Melo was there for me when I needed somebody to talk to about “love and loss”. She spent her time aligning my sanity and I spent my time preparing her to leave the country. She was to leave a month after her sister to do the same job. We’d spend the next few weeks meeting up with her friends and saying her goodbyes. I would occasionally drive her from destination to destination just because she became somebody I loved talking to. We learned a lot about each other and our perspectives on life and the metamorphosis of our personal psychology. There was a moment in conversation while I was driving her: We were talking about how some people often change when they leave their home. She mentioned that she was looking forward to what might happen, but at the same time she was worried the change might be too much. She cried. It was a real moment of fear and vulnerability for her and it really struck me the moment she mentioned it: Change is honestly a terrifying thing and it has great potential to enhance or really hinder a person. We can never comprehend how to handle it and if we do it’s always fabricated. We developed a special bond only the cosmos can understand during the time between her sister leaving and her leaving. It’s a funny thing; dating her sister for so long and spending so much time with and around Melo, I never really got to know her the way I did before she left.
Suddenly everything I knew about her made sense.
Between her departure in April 2015 and my visit to Japan in June 2015 we consistently kept each other updated with photos and discussions on what was currently happening to us and our mutual friends. The connection grew stronger as we did our best to make ends meet with our feelings. I was living with a mild case of depression from a divided relationship, and she was living with a heavy case of homesick. When I made the announcement of going to Japan to surprise her sister for her birthday, she was excited and hopped on board with helping me plan the trip. I arrived, surprised the sister, spent the weekend together and “officially” ended our relationship. I couldn’t tell if it was a nightmare or a dream that our 5 years ended the way it did, but what’s done is done. I set off to find Melody who was also in Japan and spent a few days with her. She was very keen on showing me around the countryside and because of that we went on several adventures in her car. We would drive up mountains, around dams, we would get lost looking for a valley, we even hunted fireflies! We made memories. During this time I became very existential and aware of my situation. I would step back and assess what was going on:
I just travelled six thousand miles from home to break up with my long-term girlfriend, hang out with her sister, and wander around Japan- all because my girlfriend and I made a promise that if we were to ever break up, we would do it in person, and we were too afraid to do it the night before she left to Japan. In fact, during the weeks leading up to her departure, our conversations heavily revolved around marriage. It was getting real and I was okay with making that commitment.
I returned home and endured 4 different seasons, 9 months, countless dreams involving my girlfriend’s return, and many, many weeks of confusion and heartaches. I still missed Melody’s sister and it ate me up inside. Melo and I spoke very consistently in that time, again keeping each other abreast on our endeavours. I owe her a lot for unconditionally sorting my emotions when I would suddenly burst out in cries of missing her sister, or how much I want them both home, or how my mind starts to wander and think about her sister with other men. I would never consider the time of day or where Melo might have been at the time of sending my messages, and yet she would always keep me grounded.
It was hard to believe almost an entire year had passed until she returned two weeks ago. Seeing her again was a surreal experience. You begin to realize how time really flies and how little time we’re allotted as we grow older. It’s a harsh reality that we’re running out of time and there is absolutely no way to retrieve or reclaim it. I wasn’t able to set time aside for her when she returned for a visit. I placed it upon myself to feel obligated to show her around, drive her here and there, and reconnect with her in person. It didn’t happen. Tomorrow she boards the plane back to Japan so she can continue her career overseas and it feels as if there should be closure to her visit. A group of us spent her last day in Canada with a dinner and some board games, but it didn’t feel like enough. And when the guests started thinning out it didn’t feel like a big enough goodbye. Something didn’t feel right.
Then it was my turn to leave and it was incredibly difficult to do so. Saying goodbye to her was ill-composed and I felt as if I might have just repeated what I said a year ago. Why was it so difficult for me to say goodbye? I really didn’t want her to leave (again) but I also wanted to send her off on a more grandiose scale. We exchanged a lengthy hug as I imparted her whatever wisdom I could dig up for the occasion. The speech was shallow, concise and I could have done better. Saying goodbye was never for me because when the moment hits, I would panic and rush the words. She’s become a best friend and I couldn’t even muster a proper farewell.
I hate saying goodbye, especially when I don’t want to.
Have a safe flight and I’ll see you next year, Melody.
