I never got to…

I never got to say goodbye. Not to Molly, taken too soon by an aggressive cancer. Not to Connie, who just left this world a week ago. Not to my grandmother, cancer-struck too, many years ago -- before I really understood the importance of goodbye.

I really suck at goodbye. Not just when someone passes away -- whether or not I had time to anticipate. If we have a lovely afternoon together, I'll need to grieve for a bit before I can really feel the joy of the memory. If I leave home, or some city far away, I have to move through a little separation anxiety.

How old am I -- where am I stuck in the past that leaving is never clean and clear? Why do I not know how to smile, and wave, and celebrate the moments that were?

Recently I was at a store or in a park -- oh yes, it was on that lovely waterfall trail just 40 minutes from home. A little one in their mom's arms said "Bye!". And then said it again and again, waving as we walked to our car in the crowded parking lot.

Goodbye, over and over again. Maybe I could sit with the great good fortune of having so many people and places I truly miss when they are gone.

Clinging is a source of suffering. Isn't that what the Buddhists say? Some days I wish to be able to hug the moment, then release it into evanescence before stepping into what's next. No wistfulness, no looking back. And some days I wonder-- would I want to be a person so free of regret, of longing?

It doesn't matter, really. I am a person who sucks at goodbye. Who hates parties, but somehow doesn't quite know how to leave with a smile on her face. __