Goodbyes Suck

We are standing in front of the ticket booth, waiting to pay for our tickets, and I know that once mine is swallowed and my parking is paid for, I need to go. That’s it. It’s goodbye. This is when the panic starts to set it. 

No more you. 

No more me and you. 

No more us. 

I was fine before you and so I know I’ll be fine after you. Right? I mean, that’s what everyone says. And time heals all. Right? 

I’ll be fine. 

“I’m panicking,” I whisper, turning towards you. 

“Don’t panic,” you say in equally hushed tones. “It’s just a normal weekend.”

Great. Thanks. All I needed to hear. No more panic.

I think back to several minutes ago...

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You are sitting forward, elbows leaning on the restaurant table. We are facing the ocean, sunlight streaming in through the wide, open windows. Other patrons sit at their tables, oblivious to the inner turmoil we are experiencing, enjoying their Italian style pizza.

Your head is resting on your intertwined fingers. I lean forward too and snake my arms around your waist, holding you as close to me as possible. I inhale deeply, my lips against your shoulder, your face inches from mine. I want to remember what you smell like. 

“Tell me I’ll be okay,” you plead, turning your head towards me. 

“Of course you’ll be okay. Why are you worried?” I assume you are talking about the new job. New role, new people. It sounds terribly daunting but you are capable of so much, even if you don’t always believe it. There is no part of me that believes that you won’t make a success of this new role. 

“Without you, I mean,” you explain. 

“Oh no, you won’t be,” I laugh. You laugh too. One of my favourite things is making you laugh. Especially when you are not in a good mood. It’s a skill I am proud of. “I mean, have you met me? I’m amazing,” I continue. 

Part of me is joking around but the other part of me and a very big part of me, hopes with all of my being that weeks from now, no, days from now, you’ll realise that you can’t do life without me. And you’ll hop on a plane and come back to me.

I don’t say this but I think you know. You are smart about these things when you want to be. 

“You’ll be okay,” I assure you. And despite all of my wishes, I say this with conviction. There is absolutely no part of me that entertains the idea that days, weeks or even months from now you’ll come running back to me. Exclaiming that you love me. That you want me. That you simply can't live without me.

*****************************************

I think back to this moment and wonder how you are no longer panicking. How you are no longer worried whether you’ll be okay or not. 

“But it’s not a normal weekend,” my voice sounds broken, whiny. I hate it. 

“That’s how it begins,” you promise. 

Right. Pretend every day is just another normal day until I no longer have to pretend. Until I no longer think of you. Until hearing your name no longer hurts. Until I no longer give myself headaches freaking out about life without you. 

I pay for my ticket and I feel an overwhelming sense of dread. As we walk towards my car, you pull me back and ask for one last hug. 

I hesitate. 

Hugging you will make it harder to leave you. Tears well up inside of me, threatening to spill out. I try to stop them. I can’t. I crush my body against yours, grabbing a fistful of your t-shirt. I don’t want to let go. 

I can’t imagine no longer having you in my life. No longer seeing your face. Hearing your voice. I can’t imagine going from speaking to you everyday, seeing your face everyday, to not seeing you or speaking to you at all. I can’t imagine it and I don’t want to.

But I’ll have to live it. My worst imaginings are becoming my reality. 

Am I making more of this than it actually is? I feel like my heart is being crushed but maybe I’m over dramatising this whole thing? Maybe I’m bored with my life and I want it to be filled with more drama. So I take this inconsequentially painful moment and I blow it up. Treat it as life ending when it’s just a bump in the road.

“Don’t cry,” you whisper in my ear. And I know you are right. We are in a public place. I should get a hold of myself. Cry on the inside.  But it’s not that simple, is it? 

Buck up, bub I tell myself. I wipe my tears away, trying to compose myself in the process. 

“Please drive safe and let me know when you are home,” you whisper. My heart breaks a little more. Were you holding my face as you said this? I imagine you had my face in your palms. I don’t recall. I nod, not trusting my voice. 

I walk away holding onto your hand for as long as I possibly can. Savouring the last touch. 

I keep walking and don’t look back. 

I expect you to run after me. Grab me in one last embrace. Kiss me one last time. 

You don’t. 

So I keep walking until I’m locked safely in my car. I feel angry at myself for not holding onto you a bit longer. Why did I not look at you one last time? Why did I not look into those beautiful blue eyes? Why did I not kiss you before leaving you? Did I kiss you? Did you kiss me? I don’t remember anything beyond the feel of your t-shirt gripped in my hands and the way your hand slipped out of mine as I walked away and left you standing there.

I let the tears fall freely now. But only for a little. Then I pick myself up again and drive away.