goodbyes

[begun July 17]
A lot of people in my life have left New Haven, in a cluster over the course of a couple days. I've always found it funny how things coincide, either naturally or through my mind's doings or some mix of the two, or a mix between things beyond my control and things directed loosely by the directions I choose in my life. Today I said goodbye twice, to people who have left the city permanently.

[currently]
I didn't give myself any time to process those goodbyes, and it felt a bit like betrayal to myself. I wanted to cry but I wouldn't, because I knew how all consuming it would become. I wanted to sit on my bed and listen to music all day, but I couldn't give myself that space amidst all the things to do, and I didn't want to falter. I'm not sure if it was right, but at the time I didn't feel I could function well otherwise. And, the only thing really is to do it now.

One farewell was to one of my best friends in med school, one I'd met on my first day at school three years ago, with whom I spent many a day. The other was to a family I'd met a couple months ago, who I saw every weekend for about an hour and a half. They each deserve writings about them, one of which I have done a bit of before and the other which will be coming. But there is something about goodbyes themselves, and the relationships that make them hard, that warrants words.

Relationships are funny in the way they incorporate such different ingredients and take such different forms, yet converge into similar general feelings. There are of course nuances, but I felt a parallel heaviness with both goodbyes; maybe it was partly because they happened in the same period of time, but I think it was also because when it comes down to it, it's about connecting to a person, and change.

With one, I was hit with the awareness of the luck and good chance that my experience fell into place with the experience of someone who gives so much to respect, admire, and love. As a friend, classmate and person, his presence so defined my time and growth here, with such gradual steadiness that its substance molded itself naturally into the walls of my life. Time is so constant that I sometimes forget what happens in its context. Even though there were many moments I was conscious of how lucky I felt for his friendship and existence, it wasn't until he was going away that I understood how lucky I felt for not just moments but the proximity and closeness of our lives, how easy it was to seek him out and be sought out. And for not just moments but what grew through and in between them, how incredible it is what develops with time. Time is so crazy. I saw him pack up the last of his empty apartment, and I drove him to the train station. His bus was coming soon and he needed to get food before it came, so the final goodbye was of the quick see you later quality, and it's apt in a way. I'll see him again soon. He's not that far away. But his place in relation to mine has shifted.

With the other goodbye, I was struck by how affected I was by a connection with such lack of detail, so few moments, so little time. The family didn't speak English well and we couldn't communicate well. Somehow, the limited expression made clearer their depth. Recently I've been told often by someone to speak without filters, and I always think that for me it's not so much about filters as it is about finding the most accurate words because I feel so messy that I don't know exactly how to explain things. But when you have so few words, there is no way to filter, no way to dilute or complicate. When there are no other ways, people capitalize as much as they can on the simple means they have to convey kindness and openness, and the purity of that carries force. When they first told me they'd be leaving, and in just a few weeks, I was completely surprised and I felt sudden sadness in throat and eyes, which also surprised me. It wasn't until then that I recognized what our short time had led me to envision; I had been under the impression that there would be long to go, that the small space we had formed would fill and fill. Ultimately, I'm amazed at the deep impact of surface interactions, and how the nature of an interaction can account for just as much as how long it has been in place.

It hurts very much to know, while they are still there, how much you will miss them. To know that that can come from something cultivated in time, and also from something more fleeting, makes me think that nothing is too bound or static, and these goodbyes aren't demarcations but more part of a larger mold. Still, they pierced a defined day in my life, and I'll remember it as such.