Memories of Goodbyes

One of the most sincere compliments I feel I can make is that, “I love making memories with you.” I used to say this to John all the time and I truly meant it. Sadly, some of those memories now haunt me. It’s been over a year now since our relationship abruptly ended, but my mind will play tricks on me and at certain points in the night, I’ll think that he will be home soon. I am fully aware that he will not, but it’s nice to think that someone I cared about so much, enjoyed sharing my life with, would be home soon, to be with me and make more memories.

The strange thing about memories is that they can be rather selective. We repress some and others we simply cannot shake. Sometimes a situation will bring them flooding back into sudden consciousness and then we remember the truth, instead of the rose colored versions. We remember more likely what was really happening instead of what we chose to believe and the experience can be overwhelming. The reality of the end of our relationship, is that it was not such a surprise. I recently remembered that while we were out to dinner with my brother and son, I paid the bill and I had said something that my brother mentioned over the holidays. I referred to John as my bitch because I knew more and more, I was supporting him, he was no longer my partner, but my leech and my subconscious took control of my mouth and blurted out what I was truly feeling at the time. I was done, we were done, I just couldn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together fast enough to realize why we were done. Then, the other woman gave me the missing pieces of my puzzle and yes, we were done.

However, I still have so many very sweet memories of our time together. Over the nine year relationship, we enjoyed many adventures. Simply put, we played well together and I realized many fantasies along the way. We liked to take road trips and it was as if we were in our own little world while we were in the car, holding hands, talking about everything or being so comfortable in complete silence. I thought he was my best friend and I cherished each and every moment we shared together. How unfortunate to discover what he really was and sometimes I wish I could erase the fact that he lied to me about so many things. I miss my best friend terribly, but a best friend would not have done to me what he did. There is no going back and I need to say goodbye to the dream and goodbye to the future I thought I was going to have.

Last night, while driving home from work, for some reason unknown to me, I suddenly remembered the day my son left for boot camp. The raw, gut wrenching pain of watching him leave to someplace I would not be able to communicate with him for months. Someplace where I could no longer protect him, care for him or have any knowledge whatsoever about what was happening to him. Just typing these words, the tears begin to flow and the pain is relived, even though that is not the current situation. I can communicate with him at will, but that memory of saying goodbye to him evokes so much pain and probably always will. I suppose it is because I was saying goodbye to his childhood, a time I cherished, no matter the challenges of being a single mother, I love being a mom and taking care of my family. I had to say goodbye to that, not completely, but enough to feel the void.

I think the pain of losing someone or something you love is the most devastating feeling of the human experience. Whether it is saying goodbye for a moment or forever, whether it is saying goodbye to a person, place or thing, goodbye is the hardest word to say. Digging through my memories, I think the first time I remember saying goodbye to a situation in my life was when my sister moved out of the house. I was five years old and she was 18. I don’t recall the details of the situation, but I do remember her giving me something of hers as she was packing. I may have made a remark about how much I liked it and that prompted the gifting, but I have this strong memory of her giving me this big, thick pencil with a tassel hanging from it as a way to pacify me. I must have cherished that memento because I still remember it or my mind turned it into a symbol of her leaving and it was meant to help fill the hole her absence would make.

The next person I said goodbye to was my eldest brother. He joined the Air Force when I was seven. I remember my parents throwing him a party at Shakey’s Pizza in Cicero with all his friends. It was a joyous occasion, so I don’t think I was sad about his leaving, but I do recall feeling the void. He had been my hero of sorts. I remember him taking me to Rakes Five and Dime for toys or play fighting with me, but my best memory is a Christmas one. My mom would give me little things to wrap to give my siblings as presents and one year I wrapped a toothbrush for his gift. I remember him opening it and making such a big deal out of the silly little gift by saying that it was exactly what he had wanted and I was thrilled that I had made him happy. Then, he was gone and he was gone so much that there were times I actually didn’t remember he existed until I would see a photo of him. He wasn’t gone forever, but I was young and so he left my mind, but not my heart. Like the big pencil my sister had given me, he gave me an ID bracelet that I have to this day. However, I don’t think it was to pacify me so much as to let me know I was in his thoughts.

At the age of twelve, I said goodbye to my best friend. His family was moving and I was devastated. We had become friends at the age of four and we were inseparable. We have managed to stay in touch, but during our high school years I was very frustrated with him and said I never wanted to see him again. Yet, somehow we managed to stay connected and he was at my wedding. I hadn’t seen him in years, but when he learned that I was moving away to N.Y., he said that he was going to miss me. I asked how was that possible when you haven’t seen me in years. He replied, because I always knew you were here and now you won’t be. I understood. However, I came back and even though we only see each other now and then, that goodbye remains a bittersweet memory of mine.

During high school I said goodbye to my cats that had been my dearest friends. At the age of four, as the story goes, I was allowed to get the cats so that when I would be talking to myself, I wouldn’t look so crazy…thanks Mom. I also said goodbye to a friend, a teacher and a teacher’s child, all who had died suddenly in accidents in one year. These were all very traumatic, but nothing would compare to losing my mother at the age of twenty-one. There will forever remain a big gaping whole in my heart from losing her and saying goodbye to my childhood. In one foul swoop, I lost the one person who always believed in me and I had to figure out how to fill her shoes all on my own.

If I chose to, this could be at least a three part blog, but I think you get the picture. Saying goodbye is very difficult for me and to a certain extent, always leaves me scarred. Saying goodbye to my innocence, my marriage, my father, jobs, friends, and family always manage to take a little piece of me with them and leave a scar for me to remember what once was, what I thought I had and could keep forever. As I grow older, it’s getting a little easier to say goodbye, maybe because I’ve become so jaded over the years. I have learned to “suck it up, buttercup” and keep going, but secretly I am a little more broken with each and every goodbye. I know there are plenty more goodbyes ahead of me, but I try to focus on the good times that were had and mark them as learning experiences which are hopefully preparing me for what lies ahead. When I do that, it doesn’t seem so scary to say goodbye. Actually, it’s allowing me to say hello to the next adventure and making room for my next best friend or whatever may come my way. Until I have that story to share, I won’t say goodbye. Instead, I’ll see you later alligator. After a while crocodile.

#thelieswechoosetolivewith