So Long, Farewell
“I’ll try to drive by and wave as a send off!” I text to my friend, who has just informed me that their moving date is actually today and not three days from now.
I had been planning on joining her on their lawn, chairs spaced 6 feet apart, where we could “share” a goodbye toast (in the air) before they left. But that apparently wasn’t in the cards.
And now I would have to suffice with a drive-by wave.
“We are actually pulling out right now…we’ll be back to visit though, I’ll message you when we plan our next trip” she texts.
So, we say goodbye over a text. No hugs, no waves. I really hope I see her again.
The losses that have come with the arrival of COVID 19 are devastating, new and overwhelming to process.
I’m experiencing grief because of this pandemic, but I feel guilty because it’s not because someone has died. I know I can’t be alone in feeling this way.
It’s a type of grief that is different than from death. It’s not as acute, but it is a dull, steady aching sort of grief, accentuated by anxiety about the future. My grief comes in waves and is mostly felt because of this: a loss of the rituals that punctuate change in our lives.
Grieving over this feels selfish, so I try not to spend time in mourning. I am also mindful of the things I do have and that includes the good health of myself and my family and friends. At least for now.
But, the sorrow is there. And I can’t deny that my heart aches a little each day.
During quarantine, I really felt the loss of my group of friends. Being a stay-at-home mom of two young children, I’ve relied on my mom friends for camaraderie and companionship. It’s true when they say it takes a village to raise children, and these moms are my village. They keep me sane. So, when we were forced to “socialize” via zoom or FaceTime, there was a level of disappointment that set in — we could all feel that it just wasn’t the same. And soon these zoom “happy hours” ended. Because it wasn’t really a happy hour. We weren’t getting the same benefit that human to human contact provides.
As the restrictions progressed and the economy began to collapse all around, I received news each week or so of a friend that was moving away, mostly because they needed to be near elderly family during this time, or, more commonly, they had lost work and were moving somewhere that could provide a job and/or reduced cost of living.
Normally when a good friend would give me this news of them moving away, I would be sure to cram in as many good times and hang outs as possible. I’d be over to their house with parting gifts and would squeeze them so hard so they don’t ever forget about us. Then we would make plans for a future visit. And we might cry. And then we’d hug again.
But now…
Now I’ve had goodbye texts. Sometimes a goodbye phone or FaceTime chat.
There is no proper goodbye ritual. And it stings.
My kids ended their year at school by doing a drive through car line parade. No final hugs. No ceremony. No finality. No punctuation.
I also have to add here that I know this is in no way as heartbreaking and awful as forgoing the rituals surrounding death and properly mourning a loved one. I cannot even begin to imagine how that feels, if it hurts this bad to miss out on a goodbye to someone who is just moving across the country. Someone who is still available to talk to or who I could still see sometime in the future.
It’s got me thinking a lot about why these rituals mean so much and why it hurts to not get to partake in them. Rituals seem to be a common thread amongst all of humanity, since the beginning of time. So, there is some important element to rituals within our species. And without them, I feel the void.
It’s like words on a page all jumbled together running on and into each other — it begins to lose meaning and clarity.
