Along the journey, there are many places where long merged paths must separate again. There comes a time where teary hugs come, and all of a sudden, you can’t turn over your shoulder and see them again. The gut feeling of knowing that when you wake up tomorrow, you can’t simply meet up again, they’re gone, or you are.
Empty. Gone. Final.
When the last waving hand is out of sight, you are forced to realize that it’s really over. That things are changing once again. As it happens over and over again, one begins to numb themselves to the sensation. It becomes just one more of the pangs of life. But for others, the sensation increases with each tug of the heart. For me, I don’t understand the sensation, no matter how many times it happens, it perplexes me all the more. With each painful hug farewell, a different sensation weeps over me. I’ll see you again. I wish the very best upon you. No matter how final the farewell is, I have to have faith that the very best will work out for both sides of a farewell. For I don’t say goodbye anymore, goodbyes are solid and firm. If I never see you again in my life, I hope I was at least half as much of a blessing to you as you were to me.
In my mind, I retreat to a corner, a corner filled with laughter and honesty, beyond that corner is a room where silence is comfortable, and tears are just as welcome as smiles, to a field where the joy of the Lord is overbounding, and the crystalline river, oh and the beautiful lake that stretches out of sight…
Sometimes we have to realize that farewells are a part of life. We live, we love, we learn, we grow. We cross paths, we say farewell.
Until next time, when I see you again. Did you ever wonder what the other person was thinking when you hugged them farewell? I’ll make the most of every moment… I’ll stop saving my best for last.
Live long and prosper, Tori.