Sometimes you say goodbye in a very full and elaborate way:
* extended dinners full of laughter and toasts
* intense and frequent hugging leading up to the imminent parting
* inordinate amounts of picture- and video-documentation of all the final 'good times'
* late-nite walks scaling favorite adventure terrain old and new
* packing and re-packing and the giving of gifts the you may actually want the other person to have or that maybe don't fit in your suitcase or the life you picture for yourself sans that person
* shared silences staring at stick-on star constellations or out car windows
* delightful compliments sent and recieved (i.e. "The path of your face on the way to your smile is like drinking perfect, cold, apple juice.)
Sometimes you say goodbye even though you know that person is going to be a part of your life forever.
A: Your life, and your love, will never be exactly like that again. Maybe it is the time itself that you are saying goodbye to. The version of yourself that you were with that person.
It is harder to say goodbye when you are not sure if the person you are saying goodbye to IS going to be a part of your life forever.
[too hard to really hug even?]
Sometimes you don't get to say goodbye at all. That must be the strangest stuck feeling in the world.
On a lighter note:
I went to see the best show on friday night. It is called "Worst Laid Plans: True Stories of Terrible Sex" and it was performed at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater, in LA. It is a bunch of lovely ladies telling their own hilarious and sordid true stories with only the sparest of accoutrement. Their black t-shirts bear a number representing their 'number' ... and each taps a hanging triangle after announcing the title of their respective monologue. The titles ranged from: "The Farting Rapist" to "How I slept My Way to the Lower Middle," and a token boy sings a song at the end. So much fun. So good to laugh.