I should’ve posted this a long time ago, but I didn’t. I apologize. Here it is:
If you’re like me, a soon to be college freshman, then you understand that the dreaded goodbyes are coming (if they haven’t already come). There are always a few people that you are ready to wave a farewell to, but I’m not talking about them.
I’m talking about the friend that sat with you in the Sonic parking lot when you were falling apart, and their presence itself was healing. The mere fact that they would listen while you talked nonsensically about fear and sadness and how you couldn’t shake the two, showed you that they cared about you. It proved to you that someone thought you were worth it.
Goodbyes are rather poetic. I hate saying that because I’m a firm Goodbye Hater. I even formed a club. I hate the starkness and the pain of it. I hate the way sometimes you get an invitation and sometimes you don’t. I hate it.
But the word. The word is poetic. It feels like an oxymoron. There’s good in saying goodbye? It seems like some form of a cruel joke. Sometimes I’d rather say “see ya later,” but sometimes somehow that feels dishonest because it is a goodbye for now.
There were so many moments that I thought I would have to say goodbye to because I was leaving but what I’d forgotten was that God gives us so many things to hold onto. But I thought that leaving meant saying goodbye to the making of memories with your besties. I thought goodbye meant that our childhoods disappeared and our terrible junior high years were replaced with high quality editing, but I was wrong. For childhoods and awkward photos like us grow too. They are a part of us. We don’t grow out of them necessarily but they are our sounding boards, our jumping off point. They teach us. They build us. Our childhoods give us a foundation for the rest of our lives, a pattern by which we can understand life.
As kids, I remember rifling through the other’s purse contents just to see what her purse held, back when purses were a right of passage, a level of maturity. I remember shoving her off the bed and laughing till we cried and I remember hour long conversations on the telephone and our parents asking us to get off. I remember gossip and fashion runways and dreams and stories and tears. I remember our hearts breaking and aching. Lots of conversations about cute boys, and as we grew the conversation turned into marriage and babies and what we want people to say about us when we’re gone.
I remember countless conversations of Jesus and how he should shine through our lives. The discussion of right and wrong. Jam sessions. So many jam sessions and music trades and rooftop conversations. Coffee shops where we talked about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. There were fights too, but God gave us grace and we made it through.
And now we’ve said a “see you later” and we’re going out to our futures, living our lives. We made our paths cross as kids and we’ll continue to do so.
I guess this one is for my best friend, who I’ve always been afraid of losing. This isn’t goodbye. This is just a different form of hello. We’re saying hello to new things and we will always be cheering each other on. Love is bigger than distance. Don’t believe the lies that tell you otherwise. Love never ends.