We all have to say “goodbye” at some point in our lives. We all find ourselves separated from our loved ones eventually. For some, the first goodbye comes with a move or transition for school, work, or love. These goodbyes are bittersweet as there is excitement and anticipation for what lies ahead, and there is sorrow in the separation. Some goodbyes are because of loss; a loss of love, or the passing of a loved one. Again, these goodbyes are also bittersweet. Good times are reflected on with love and adoration, while the milestones ahead will not be achieved.
In less than one week I have witnessed multiple goodbyes. Some friends have lost loved ones, some mourn loved ones who would have celebrated birthdays and anniversaries. As well, I have had friends prepare to say goodbye as they ready themselves for new adventures ahead thanks to work, school, training, and even a marital separation. They are apprehensive about leaving the familiar behind, yet they are excited about the new opportunities that lie ahead for them.
I thought about the “left behind” side of goodbye. It can leave one feeling vulnerable, abandoned, and yet it can be releasing. We learn to rely on having someone in our lives, and we feel lost and empty without them. At the same time, we grow and mature because of our goodbye. We learn to take more time with relationships, we learn to guard our hearts for fear of saying goodbye too soon, which in turns deepens the relationships we do develop, and we learn to enjoy meaningful time with our loved ones.
We met an amazing neurosurgeon in the midnight hours of a cool fall night. We were nervous and overwhelmed as this man, clearly exhausted from a long day, pulled us out of the pediatric ICU room to introduce himself. We stepped over to a bank of computer screens across from our room, where we looked over each of his shoulders to see the black and white picture . The image was clear and plain, there was no denying the facts he was gently trying to share with us. He had a lot of work to do over the next week or so to get the swelling down to do the necessary and invasive surgery to save her life. He had to repeat that surgery just 6 months later as the tumor returned. At that time he told us he was leaving and we would be transferred to a colleague and additional two hours north of him (over four hours for us from home).
We were shocked, dismayed, and slightly hurt. How could he leave us when we clearly needed him? Where was he going and could we follow him there? Several concerns ran through our minds, then rationale settled in. We said our goodbyes just under 9 months after we met this man we considered family. He probably didn’t say the same as he cared for hundreds of children, but to us, he was significant and rightfully earned a place at our table anytime he wanted. We handed this man our daughter, and her delicate brain. We trusted him like we have never trusted another, and he was leaving us. We were crushed, and even more so, we have not seen him since he left. Yet, we had no idea we would not need to see him again. She was followed by two more neurosurgeons, but she didn’t have another brain surgery, so our goodbye was quick and abrupt.
Then we met his colleague hours away. This man was kind, gentle, compassionate, and he even traveled to a town within 45 minutes of us to see us monthly. We saw this man monthly for a year, every three months for a year, and our last visit with him was on a warm day in May, just one month before we headed south for a different team to treat a different cancer. We never had the chance to tell him thank you or to say goodbye. We were anxious to not have him in our corner, but we didn’t need to see him again either.
We had a lengthy list of nurses and doctors who were part of our long journey. After our first daughter died, we were allowed to connect with many of them socially. We felt comfortable knowing they were always there. Yet, as some moved on to other jobs, began raising their own families, or left the team they were with, our hearts were a little dismayed each time. When we had to return to the facility after eight years for our second daughter, we were relieved to see several familiar faces, but we were sad as we took a poll of who had moved on.
Even now, a few friends are taking jobs as traveling nurses, doctors, and therapists, and I cannot help but be a little sad. I will miss them, as they have become dear friends. Yet, I will miss them because I don’t need their services anymore. In my mind it is simple to say they cannot leave because we might need them in the future, but it has proven before that our goodbyes will not impact our need in the future. It just closes the chapter from the past, and that saddens us. As each person who was a part of our girls’ lives moves on, we feel less and less connected. These are people who shared stories and had intimate memories of our family in the months and years we connected.
I am elated for the new adventures they will go on to find, if it be in an exotic location, into a more or less challenging position, or simply a change of scenery to refresh and renew themselves. I will miss the friendship and companionship, and I know the reality is that I will never see some of the people again. Then again, no matter how much time passes, I know that I will, in fact, see many if not all of these amazing people again one day!
No matter why you have to say goodbye, know that you are not alone, but your pain is still unique to you as your fingerprint. You may hurt with the separation, temporary or permanent, or you may be elated for the excitement of change. No matter what has caused you to say goodbye, know that it is an honor to say goodbye because it means you at least got to meet in the first place.
To all my goodbyes, thank you for coming in and out of my life. Because of you, I have learned to love more passionately, live more patiently, and appreciate more deeply. I hope to see you again one day.