I’ve never been good at goodbyes. I’m the one who:
- Clings hard as I hug my sister at the airport, knowing that too many months will pass before we’re together again.
- Dismantles the holiday decorations simply because I want to be done with the inevitable feeling of loss, of something so good ending so soon.
- And yes, I am also the one who stays too late at the party for the same reason: I don’t want this moment to pass into the ordinary – not just yet.
As I sat with these reflections late one dreary winter morning, I came to see that I respond to relationships in a similar fashion, even those that have seemingly run their course.
Goodbyes and endings are hard for me. I marvel with some suspicion at people who confidently respond with, “Not me, sister. I live in the present – not in my yesterdays or my tomorrows. It’s all about the here and now with me.”
Well dang, how do they do that? My truth isn’t that simple, or absolute. It’s an amalgam of straddling yesterday, today and tomorrow. A one-dimensional experience of time feels unnatural, limited to me – more like erasure, or denial of the past, or fear of the future. Okay, so maybe I am simply “in my head” too much. Guilty! But still, is there an understanding of this way of being in three time zones simultaneously? It turns out that none other than Albert Einstein is famously quoted as saying:
“The distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.” Thank you, Sir, for giving some credence to my experience!
And yet, those sage words aren’t much help in the day-to-day business of living, particularly how I experience endings. I’ve decided to work on this, whether it’s:
- A season.
- A friendship.
Or even:
- A sense of myself.
Instead of focusing on what is over or lost, my intention is to cherish what was, to be grateful for it and to look forward to what is to be. You’ve heard this sentiment before and so have I. But putting it into practice will take practice as I count on the plasticity of my brain to forgo well-worn pathways in favor of forging new ones.
True to my word and determined to do better, I started with the dismantling of our festive décor. Instead of getting stuck in that familiar feeling of loss, I “thanked” my ever-hardy faux garland and newfound twinkling lights for capturing the beauty and the hope of the season just past, reassuring myself that I would joyfully unwrap them once again next year.
For me, this was progress, as normally I’d immediately see a void and feel an absence. “The house looks so empty when you take all of that down,” my good man laments, putting words to my own latent sentiments. In that moment, I am reminded of my new resolve, responding, “It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” then shifting my attention to two emotional anchors:
- Gratitude and anticipation.
This mindset shift is monumental. It turns a sense of loss into thankfulness and an openness to whatever lies before me in the beautiful months ahead. I’m no physicist and certainly no Einstein, but how I work with the past, present and future – illusion or not – is something I can lean into in a positive way.
