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Farewells are hard…

I am doing it for the second time in my life. The times are obviously different, I am older, wiser – or so I hope – and wealthier than I was the first time I moved to live in a different country. It appears that there is both good and bad in comparing this emigration with my first one.

The first one was a “burn-the-bridges” kind, while this time around we appear to want to eventually return. Less sad.

The friends we were leaving behind years ago were childhood and youth friends (we thought we would miss them dearly forever, and communicated furiously for years, but with time we drifted quite apart); this time around we are leaving behind many life-long friends, and we are mature enough to truly experience a profound feeling of loss… More sad.

The internet is king – both written and verbal communications are so much more accessible and convenient today than in years past. We should be able to easily stay in touch and share our pictures almost instantaneously. Less sad.

When we moved then, we were the kids. We looked forward to the adventures, while our unbelievably brave parents stressed out over every single step of the process and sweated out the endless stream of problems that money – due to the general absence thereof – could not solve… Now, we are the parents, and worse, our kids cannot yet be relied on for any type of support. So, we still are looking forward to the adventures but we also are at least somewhat concerned, whether we really do our kids a service or a disservice, despite what everyone says… More sad.

And so it goes…

And then, there are the farewells themselves!

We talk to people. Everybody exudes envy, enthusiastically wishes us the best, assures us that we are going to have the time of our lives, and even expresses admiration for our gutsiness. Most promise to come and visit us. Everybody asks questions (so I end up repeating the same things 100 times; my hands-down favorite is Are you excited? – let’s see, exactly how enlightening can I be answering this one?…) No tear is shed. Only, there is a certain charge in the air – sort of like people are already looking at us from afar…

Maybe, I just cannot stand farewells…

Posted in Apropos

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