cthewind's Blog

Among the hardest parts of being human is saying, “goodbye.” Goodbyes come in many forms—leaving town, sending children here or there or where-you’re-not-so-sure, grieving loved ones, moving on.

Goodbyes are often precipitated by provocation and argument, as though conflict will give the courage to say goodbye and try new things. Courage generated by conflict is temporary, and it often needs to renew conflict in order to renew itself.

It’s hard to show up for goodbyes—especially those that do not have the seemingly satisfying closure of a slammed door or final word. Words often feel inadequate and there are so many feelings—among them, sadness, happiness, hurt, healing, betrayal, love, resentment, appreciation, unfulfilled expectations, and astonishing moments of contentment or pride.

Because it’s so hard to show up for goodbyes, many people don’t. Instead, they slink away quietly in the effort to protect themselves and/or others from the swirl of thoughts and emotions, the quivering lip, the awkward pat on the shoulder, the stuttered platitudes.

Worse still, the awkwardness and emotional freight of saying goodbye sometimes lead us to assume that goodbyes themselves are bad, that we cannot possibly be ok if we are saying goodbye. But this is to fundamentally misunderstand what it is to be human, which is full of goodbyes as well as hellos or “exits and entrances,” if you prefer a Shakespearean twist.[1]

Goodbyes happen for many good reasons: the end of pain, new opportunities for growth or delight, deepening relationships, a chance to let go or slow down. Have you ever been part of a good goodbye—yours or someone else’s?

Even when a goodbye is not, on the surface of things, for a good reason, showing up to say goodbye can yield to eventual good. But only if you also show up to the awkwardness and emotional freight.

As a mother, colleague, and friend I’ve been practicing goodbyes that are a “release in love.” In some cases I have had to really coach myself or others to show up for this. It’s understandable: the emotional freight is heavy to hold and hard to bear in our bodies. But I think, if you can convince yourself to do it, some of the freight departs as a train does from a station in the swirl of saying goodbye.

It’s a little beyond reason, but you can say goodbye to some of the burden when you show up to say goodbye, sending people with the best of yourself you can summon, focused on the best version of them you can summon. These efforts to bend your will toward what is best for them in the moment, along with what is best for you also, combine in a strange alchemy of compassion. Recognizing one another’s humanity and wanting each to be, even if no longer together at home, at work, or on earth, affirms, again, our deep belonging to the mysteries of being in time and memory. Though goodbyes part us, we are somehow grounded and our capacities increased; we become more fully alive in surviving goodbyes if we can release in love.

[1] William Shakespeare, As You Like It (ca. 1599), II.vii