While I hesitate to offer a broad generalization to humanity (or moreso to life in general), saying “goodbye” to another is beyond a mere difficulty or struggle. That is, rarely have I encountered the infrequent event of one individual saying goodbye to another. “Bye” and goodbye’s of a sort exist and happen all the time, no doubt. But one person, offering to another person, a final statement of departure – an acknowledgment that I will never see you again in this life – is so truly rare. Yet, how often does one encounter such a situation, where one wholeheartedly realizes that paths will not cross again? My guess is frequently. Many of these, perhaps, are mere chance crossings in life that personally and internally matter very little. A distant cousin you have met at a family reunion, for example. Still, consider the “goodbye” occurring between the two individuals. “Good talking to you. I’m sure I’ll run into you again.” “So great to meet you, your Uncle has my e.mail, so just get in touch sometime.” Are you sure, though, that you will run into them again? I propose (although wary of blanketing such a statement, while realizing I am anyway) that such statements and manners of leaving or ending-in-the-world are delays or avoidances of truly acknowledging the gravity of the moment. Am I guilty of this? Of course! For instance, when I encounter the occasional “Have a nice life!” comment, I think to myself how odd this person is. Yet, is he/she being more honest than myself?
So, what is it? Why the reluctance? I argue or posit that this tendency results from the natural being-fear of finitude, temporality, mortality. To say goodbye with the heart and meaning of the word in mind is to recognize endings, that our time with others will end, that we will cease to be. I think of those rare instances where I have seen or imagined “real” goodbyes: standing with a beloved pet as they are ‘put down,’ watching his eyes looking into mine and asking many questions, or perhaps worse, having no idea they will never open again. Watching his breathing slow and finally cease. This, to me, is ultimately sad. I get teary-eyed merely thinking about it, every time. Similarly, I recall wondering every time I bid farewell to my Grandpa if that was the last. Then, I begin to wonder if, honestly, I will see them again, in any life. A number of religions offer the promise of reunion, and I find comfort. Yet as faith is not steadfast certainty, I ponder such afterlife meetings. That is, I pose the most terrifying question of all: Am I just duping myself into comfort because I’m so horrified of not seeing these beings again? Because I’m so afraid of saying goodbye, for the final time. I hope not. I pray not.
