The Long Good-Bye

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“The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.” – Henry Miller

I was working on my office yesterday half-listening to my daughter and her best friend chattering about the project they were working on when I suddenly felt a wave of grief. This has been happening on and off since I learned that the best friend and her family, our next door neighbors, will be moving in three months. It’s a very sweet sense of “Wow, I’m going to miss this.”

And then I want to turn it off knowing that it will last for 3 months. That seems like a very long good-bye.

In his book, Predictably Irrational, behavioral economist Dan Ariely talks of his experience when he was a teenager spending months in an Israeli burn ward getting treatment. The hardest part was when the nurses had to change his bandages and they’d work quickly to remove them. They were operating from the reasoning that it would hurt him less if they ripped off the bandages faster.

After he recovered, he actually studied the adage about ripping off the bandage – it turns out that it doesn’t hurt less for the patient (I believe he found that it was the same for the patient either way) but it is easier on the nurse because they don’t have to witness the patient be in agony for as long.

Which tells me what I already intuitively know – that it’s hard to stay open to pain. But the alternative of ripping off the band-aid faster, in the case of my daughter’s friend moving, would be to close ourselves off to the sweet litany of “lasts” that we’ll be able to do.

Instead I snapped a picture (the featured photo) of the two girls sitting as they usually do, practically on top of each other, taking up about one foot of a seven foot couch. We won’t always have the luxury of being so near so I’m working on celebrating every inch of it.

The people that I haven’t had the opportunity to say goodbye to, like my dad who passed suddenly in a bike accident, have left me with an appreciation for the bittersweet good-bye, even though it is so hard to do well.

What about you – do you rip the band-aid, real or metaphorical, off slowly or quickly?

46 thoughts on “The Long Good-Bye”

  2. I think perhaps we long for that “one more time” moment, one last time to make another memory or say whatever it was we forgot to say. I suppose that may be tied up with regret as well and our own self-preservation because we assume it will somehow be less painful if we’ve exhausted every opportunity to wrap up our life with the other person.

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    1. I really resonate with what you said, “I suppose that may be tied up with regret as well and our own self-preservation because we assume it will somehow be less painful if we’ve exhausted every opportunity to wrap up our life with the other person.” The phrase you use, “wrap up our life with the other person” really has me thinking – because of course when we put it that way it simply doesn’t seem possible, especially when it’s a long and deep relationship. But we still search for “closure” if that applies here.

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  3. As slow as possible, both real and metaphorical. I think it is more romantic, for the metaphorical one. The real one, I believe it’s less painful, but apparently it is not… The photo of the two little girls is so sweet!

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    1. Oh, I like how you put it that slow is more romantic, Cristiana. That really rings true to me.

      I looked up exactly what Dan Ariely found from his research. It was “that people feel less pain if treatments (such as removing bandages in a bath) are carried out with lower intensity and longer duration than if the same goal is achiever through high intensity and a shorter duration. When he went back and presented that to the nurses that cared for him, one of them said that he needed to account for the psychological pain of the nurses in his study. 🙂

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  4. Hi Wynne. Thank you for posting another deep and insightful post. Boy, how I could relate to what you shared. Thanks to your writing skills, I can “see” the closeness of your daughter and her friend, and I can “feel” the sudden departure of your father. Perhaps, this is also because the passing of my father was very sudden, when I was sixteen.
    It has only been fairly recently, through awakening to a deeper dimension of Self, that the associated pain related to “ripping off the bandaid” has lessened. There is such great suffering (yes, joy, too) when we believe we are the “person.” That was certainly the perspective “i” held when my father passed. With that perspective, which usually goes univestigated by the masses, comes suffering, described as dukkha, by Buddha. I’m not sure if most people realize that the term “Buddha” simply means to be awakened to higher Self. It is not something to be worshipped. It is who we “are.”
    From this vantage point, it allows us to see the “whole,” including apparent losses, such as friends moving, or even death, from a detached perspective. This perspective is, nonetheless, very rich. It does not mean that we do not love, care, or have compassion. It just means that we realize we are not the person suffering.

    I haven’t meant to preach–hope you know that. Just to share, and offer pointings that might lessen some pain. This may seem incredibly insensitive of me; but one day several years ago, I found myself finally discarding faded photo of my father and me–the one I placed in my wallet only two days after his passing. It was time for me to hold him in my heart–not the “symbol” of him in my wallet.

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    1. Thank you, Art for another deep and meaningful comment. I’m sorry about your father passing – especially when you were so young.

      I hear what you are saying about suffering. I’d make the distinction between pain and suffering. I think it’s our strong attachment to the narrative of the pain that causes suffering, which I believe ties to what you say about the ego-centric way of life. But to bear honest witness to pain, and to guide a little one thoughtfully through it, I think is the heart of compassion. It’s how we can do the Tonglen meditation – by knowing our own pain so that we can see it and bring some relief to others since we are all One.

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      1. You’re welcome, Wynne. I agree with what you’ve shared about suffering–we’ve become attached to the story, the running narrative. Yes, compassion must be our approach…to live it, as it. Thank you for sharing your insights.

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  5. I think I’m more of a rip it off fast kind of person. I guess whether “lasts” are already in my memory or still to be created doesn’t make that much difference to me, because it doesn’t change the fact that it will be over.

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    1. Wow, this is a deep comment. It speaks to pain being separate from time. I think I’m a rip it off fast kind of person too – that way I can bear down and get it over with. And so in this case where I don’t control when they move, I’m writing things like this post so I can be more thoughtful how to navigate it.

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  6. How sweet to see your daughter and her friend together! Wish I knew a fast way of grieving such loss. I began grieving from the day my close friend and neighbor told me that they were moving out-of-state.

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  7. As a parent, I think it will be interesting for you to see how your daughter processes all of this over time; if her style differs from your own, etc. I am guessing that as a child, she is living more in the present moment, than we are able to as adults. The idea of certain things being the “last” may not be something she is thinking about, unprompted. She sure is lucky to have a mom who is documenting some of this for her though…because she will want these photos when she is older. And she will really need you on that day that they say goodbye.
    All of this reminded me of the Patty Loveless song, “How can I help you say goodbye”. The beginning of the song describes two young girls who have to say goodbye due to a move. Have a blessed day, my friend 🙂

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    1. Oh my goodness, Grace. I’m sitting here listening to that song and crying. Beautiful.

      This is such an insightful comment, Grace. You are right that she is processing this differently. And I’ve got to work not to let my grief for her color or override how she sees and feels about things. Thank you for the gift of this comment.

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  8. What a great question! And like most great questions, I believe the answer is “it depends”… If I’m going to get into a pool of cold water, the dipping one toe, then a foot, then another one, and then the legs, and then the lower torso, etc., to slowly acclimate to the cold water seems like unnecessary suffering. May as well just push oneself into the water 🙂

    When it comes to loved ones, I believe knowing that there’s an end makes what we have so much more precious. If we knew we were going to live forever, would we cherish moments like we do now?

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    1. Excellent answer. Just thinking about getting in slowly makes me want to back out – especially when it crosses the midsection.

      But your answer about loved ones seems just right too. There is a sweetness and urgency knowing things will end. And somehow our brains need that to really appreciate it.

      Beautiful comment – thank you!

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      1. Thank you! I wonder if in our earlier youth, before we are fully aware of “endings”, we are less likely to have that urgency and appreciate those things. Does Ariely speak to those questions?

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      2. It very well could be that when we’re young the idea of “final” is less solid. Ariely doesn’t speak to it. But I’m guessing from my daughters questions which mostly are about how long 3 months is, she doesn’t seem to be anticipating the pain because she can’t relate it to anything in her life so far. Which is another fascinating thing to ponder – when do we start suffering from things that have not yet happened and have no model for?

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  9. I’ve lost a lot of people in my time, but the hardest loss was my sweet adorable puppy. The bandaid had to be ripped off quickly and unexpectedly at the time, but two years later, it’s still peeling away slowly from my heart. There wasn’t time for a long goodbye. Is one way “better” than another? Perhaps our preference is not a choice at all, but—but more a matter of dealing with the hand we are dealt. All we can do is make the best of it, whatever IT is. Blessings to you and your daughter during this precious time, and as you go through it together.

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    1. Oh, Julia, I’m so sorry. Makes me tear up,just thinking of how hard it is to say goodbye to our dear pets. You are so right that we don’t control any of it so we just make the best of what we face – hopefully together! Thank you for coming along on this journey with us! ❤️❤️❤️

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  11. What an interesting and heartfelt and stirring post. I can feel your tremendous empathy for your daughter. It certainly is sad. But if it’s any comfort, 3 months is a long time for kids that age! But a flash for us adults.

    This is a hard one – on one sense, you want to shield your heart from pain. So the rip bandaid off approach does that. But then you miss out on so many tender moments leading up to the final goodbye if you close your heart to them.

    So for me, I lean towards a slow goodbye. Cuz those memories and closures made are what lasts beyond the physical goodbye.

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  12. I do it quickly mostly because even though I know it will hurt the same… it’s not as long. It’s harder to pull yourself out of a rut when you stay and wallow in it. It’s better to find a way to lace up your boots and move on.

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    1. I like your image of the boots and moving on, LaShelle! I agree with the preference to go quickly. But I’m getting better at staying with it if it’s out of my control so as not to miss the sweetness.

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  13. Slow for me. We had almost nine months to prepare for our move from Portland to Rapid City, and so we embarked upon a “Farewell Tour of the PNW” in which we visited our favorite places from over the years, everything from cherished ocean getaways to hole-in-the-wall bars. It was bittersweet, sure – but allowed us to say a proper goodbye to each and every spot.

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      1. Tough to narrow that down! There are so many great spots. We were married in Lincoln City, always enjoyed the Oregon Coast Aquarium in Newport, and Astoria is just so scenic and fun. But if I had to choose, I’d go with Cannon Beach. Haystack Rock never disappoints, and there are lots of really cool shops and restaurants along the quaint downtown.

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      2. It’s been too long since I’ve been to all those places. I’m going to put Cannon Beach on our list for this next year. You’ve made me remember what a special place it is!

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  14. This is beautiful, Wynne, and hits home. Again. I struggle with impending loss, and my way has been to force it to conclusion quickly. It doesn’t lessen the pain; just shortens my dread. I know I need a better strategy.
    Hugs to you 💜

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    1. I totally thought of you as I was writing this. Yes – it’s SO hard to stay present when an end is in sight. Hugs to you as work your way through it. When you find a better strategy, let me know! 😀❤️❤️❤️

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  15. Sometimes we don’t have a choice so accepting the slow process, as painful as it is and enjoying the simple gifts (like the cute photo of your daughter and her friend), makes the process a little sweeter.

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    1. Acceptance is such a beautiful word here. And the one I’ve been struggling to find. Thank you, Nancy. If I’m not wishing it were otherwise, I can celebrate it more. I’m so grateful for your comment to help open me to that! ❤️❤️

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      1. I totally get the “wishing it were otherwise” part, Wynne. I’m right there with you in a couple of situations and it’s a tough process to get to acceptance, because in order to get there we must grieve. I think we all would like to avoid those sad feelings and use the rip the band aid off approach if we could. In the middle of watching my husband decline in health, your post has made me aware again that I have to get back to creating peaceful; joyful moments even in the middle of my sadness … for both of us! 💕

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  17. I appreciate your question, at the end. Personally, it depends on the relationship I have with the individual, as I like to take their emotions into consideration as well as everyone is not okay with official goodbyes. Professionally I start ever client session off with mentioning goodbye and bring it up often throughout are time together so that the individual can understand what positive closure looks like.

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    1. What an interesting practice. I love how thoughtfully you create a space for positive closure. Such great food for thought – thank you!

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