A really depressing first post about goodbyes

-Robert Langellier

As far as I can remember, I've never had to truly say goodbye to a good friend like I did today. Especially not to one of my best friends in the whole wide universe. Unfortunately, people come and people go as they do, and my Thai friend Nadia Wiwatwicha flew forever into the infinite unknowns of foreign countries and engineering colleges today. As wrenching as that was, one of the main things that I learned from this week is how difficult it is to feel what you know you should be.

Throughout the week Nadia was stressed out by nostalgia and packing, and from time to time she vented about how the people closest to her were treating her. She perceived that some of those around her were seeing her only as a kid who needed to pack more efficiently rather than a friend about to go away. My response was generally a variation of "They're probably just suppressing their emotions so they don't have to think about you leaving. That's what people do."

Ironically, I pretty much did that myself. I was able to shut myself off so completely that I could talk to her about things such as the above paragraph and yet not think about it myself. As a tangible example, I knew the whole week I should've been getting her a going away present, but I shouldered the idea and never really addressed it until we'd already dropped her off at the airport. Like said, I've never had to deal with a circumstance like this, so I responded by entirely neglecting to do so. The result was a kind of empty, rushed feeling of helplessness and failure to react when we finally hugged goodbye at the terminal. I treated the preceding week with her just like any ordinary succession of moments, so I treated that last moment as such, too. I mean I might see her one more time or never for the rest of my life, and all I could think to say was "Bye Nadia."

The part of that that is really scary is the fact that, although I'm closer to Nadia than all but 2 or 3 people, she's only the first of an endless train of childhood friends headed every direction out of Springfield this summer. If I can't invest emotion into one goodbye, I'm not going to respond to 10, 20, 30, or 100 more good friends leaving. As much as I don't want to see myself marginalize the importance of so many of my friendships, I don't see any other outcome.

My diagnosis: Senior year summer is bittersweet.
My prescription: Don't complicate things as much as I am.