Its not goodbye

I am not very accomplished at graceful goodbyes. Its never been easy for me to leave a friend or a place that held memories. I have always moved on of course but then I was so much younger then. A goodbye now is hard indeed. I suppose growing older means one is less resilient to pain – our hearts do not have that elasticity that seems to mark the hearts of the truly young. Instead pain leaves us bruised and discoloured for what seems like an eternity.

Leaving my friends in Kuwait when I left the school and country to return to India was the first set of goodbyes I remember. I did have to bid farewell to my grandmother and uncles and everyone else who doted over me when I was three but for some reason while I remember my school-going uncle buying me ice lollies or very meticulously lining my eyes with home-made kajal and drawing the perfect bindi on my forehead, I cannot remember saying goodbye.

I was sad saying goodbye to my school friends at thirteen but I still kept the worst of my hurt behind a newly-created shell. Leaving the miserable school I attended in a forgettable corner of Kerala was more of a pleasure than a pain. So my next major goodbye came when I left my college friends after five years together. For the first time in my life, I had learnt how to have a little fun – I learnt how to go on stage and act or mime – even dance (just the once!) and the friend who taught me all that was too precious for me to bid adieu to. Yet we went our separate ways and only connected again on Facebook a decade and a half later.

More goodbyes after I left my next college by which time I was engaged. That was another hard goodbye to a phase of life that I would never know again. The carefree existence of a college student is looked back on with fond nostalgia by anyone who’s crossed that stage. So that goodbye was two-fold – to my friends and classmates and to my single life. There too I moved on with not much contact with any of my friends afterwards. Sometimes I wonder if I keep no contacts because its easier to harden oneself totally rather than in parts.

Many goodbyes followed as life went on. A permanent farewell to my father. A farewell to the idea that my life would be like any other parent’s. More farewells to many a dream. Today I find myself on the threshold of another goodbye. It promises to be painful. The exact time I will have to wave farewell is not even known but my instinct says its not very far away. Its inevitability does not make it any easier to accept. But of course accept it I will. I have learnt over the years that I am way stronger than I think and life’s unexpected twists sometimes lead you to pleasant surprises. One day, perhaps even saying goodbye will cease to be painful.