Nothing Hurts More Than Saying Goodbye

Years and years ago, when I was a naive teenager that was just one day graduated from high school, I was bound and determined to start my life in the military as quickly as possible. I had my entire life planned out. Obtain training and work experience in the military, get married, have kids, get out of the service and find a good job back home, live happily ever after, THE END. Quaint wasn't it?

On the day the recruiter came to my house to drive me down to the MEPS station (where you are processed and sworn in) the veracity of my decision to leave home suddenly rabbit punched me in the stomach. It was like the first day of kindergarten all over again. Except this time there was no “see you after school” as the implications were much more permanent. I spent many sad, lonely nights in my bunk questioning the prudence of that decision. The letters from home telling me how proud they were and remembering “the plan” gave me strength, at least enough to get by.

Reality is prone to not sticking with anyone’s plans, especially those of a silly teenage man child. But who has the ability to see that far ahead at any age? I did join the service and obtain that training and work experience. I even got married (twice!) and had kids, and got out of the service and found a great job (several even) but I never, no matter how hard I tried, found my way home. Oh sure I’d visit, but your hometown and the friends and family you left behind just doesn’t feel the same anymore. Going home now almost instantaneously turns into a circus of dinners, visitations, logistical juggling nightmares... and stress.

I haven’t been home in over a year, so I never really thought much about it because my daily life usually preoccupies my time. But today I drove my mom, who was in town for a brief visit, back to the airport and just as we said our goodbyes that twang in my chest and the feeling of sad resignation washed over me all over again, just like it did that day first day I said goodbye and every other time since. This day was no different. I hate that feeling. And of course after the fact, when it’s too late, I always think of something I’d like to have said or done. Just one more “I love you” or hug goodbye seems so easy, but completely impossible from afar.

To make matters worse, each visit marks that much more time passed by. We all grow older, and it forces me to wonder not only WHEN I’ll see my loved ones again, but IF I’ll ever see my loved ones again. When I was younger I was scared of how I’d make it through life without them, now I worry about how they will make it without me to help them. Worry-free living is a farce.

Nope, life sure didn’t turn out anything at all like I planned it. And all these years later I’d have thought that saying goodbye would be easier. It never did get any easier for me, I’m just better at hiding the pain.