Fradam

That’s right; I’ve found the secret. After a (relatively short) lifetime of saying goodbye to friends (as much as you can do when you live in your home town for 20 or so years), and struggling terribly with it, I’ve made a discovery which will possibly shock the world. Or at least this part of my world. Or well.. at least, it shocked me. As most would know, I distance myself from change as quickly as a leaf-dependent sloth gets away from a lithe jaguar. i.e. I invariably get caught, but hopefully make a tasty morsel for the change agent. All that could change (!) now, and become a thing of the past. In the future, I might just become a sloth that consumes more than leaves, I could sup upon branches too, and we may find that the jaguar no longer finds me quite as an attractive prey.

It’s really quite simple too. What is it exactly that I fear? Saying goodbye. The thought that I might not see the person(s) again. The thought that the world will not be the same; specifically, that the world will be particularly less pleasant from someone’s absence. The key to conquering the fear: don’t think of it as a goodbye. Believe that the world will not be the same, but that you might see the person again, and that although it may feel less pleasant initially, in the long-run it could just turn out okay.

Yes, I am quite aware that many people have been telling me this for literally.. years. But why in the world would I listen to friends and family who were trying to help me cope with saying goodbye to people? That sounds like way too good of an idea.

So, you’re probably wondering, how did such a revelation as this, come to me? What happened, that this simple piece of wisdom that so many have tried to impart to me, finally broke through?

On Friday night, I went to a farewell party; a common scene that I often struggle with. This time, it was different. Although I was farewelling a friend, I knew I’d be seeing more of her once she left (as peculiar as that sounds)… so I was able to very easily rationalise that life was actually going to get better. It was easy to do it in this case, because there was a matter of 3 days involved; I could connect the dots from the sadness of separation to the joy of joining myself.

As I reflect upon periods of saying goodbye in my life, these same dots existed, but usually had weeks, months, or in some case, years, connecting them. In the moment, my vision would be limited; I couldn’t see that far… but in hindsight, it seemed to always work out for the best. Someone looking out for me?

Tomorrow is a new day, and I’m seeing my recently farewelled friend. Hurray

Wednesday morning began quietly, as most tense films begin. After an excellent Moroccan lamb (thanks Adrian) the night before, I was exceedingly keen about both lunch and a visit to the bank later that day (oh, and work ofcourse.. *cough*).
In hindsight, much like the films, the innocuous nature of a certain chain of events in the morning did not illuminate their disastrous nature until they were crystallised in an untimely demise later on.

It started with some paperwork for the bank - I have a file folder, and had the option of placing my notes inside the plastic sleeve. Decided not to, as I figured between the tight nature of the file folder and my work bag, there wasn’t much worry. Then there was transporting my lunch using my usual plastic takeway style containers. No different to normal, except I had neglected to cook any rice to go with it, so was carrying a full container of Moroccan lamb in to work. I was feeling particularly environmentally conscious, and figured it wouldn’t be neccessary to double bag the container, especially as I’d be wrapping the bag tightly around the container and wedging it in my bag against the file folder and a few other things in there.

The pieces were now in place.

Upon arrival at work, the transportation process of lunch from bag to fridge began. Icky. The inside of my bag was covered in the gravy from the Moroccan lamb. The top of the plastic had snapped, and pierced right through the tight-fitting plastic bag, allowing it to seep out whilst I was getting to work. Due to the tightly packed nature of the bag, nothing really escaped attention. The file folder in particular, was inundated with it… and somewhat more worrying were the files within which had gained some new framing. Excavating the container from the bag resulted in the bag tipping - from chair to ground, and spilling contents on the floor too.

Concluding that the microwave was destined to explode if I heated the remaining contents up later… I had a yoghurt for lunch. Tasty, healthy, and less chance of disaster.