|Rosie and Bucky|
Whether it is a visit with a friend, a change of workplace, or moving from one season or state to another, a goodbye is the ending of something. And yet it is also a beginning, for in order for something new to come, something old must pass. A baby must leave babyhood behind. That is sad. But sadder still is a baby who never grows up. Adult children move from home, leaving a hole only they can fill. That is sad. But sadder still would be an adult child whose life does not move forward.
The more epic the goodbye, the more it carries the weight of ending. This must be why we wave until the harbor can no longer be seen from the ship or the friendly lights of the house are no longer visible around the curve in the road. Most of us do not relish the process of letting go, for in that moment between ending and beginning, we hang in space. The future, even if welcome, holds the unknown, while that to which we are bidding farewell holds the comfort of a familiar world.
When we stand before an open door and do not go through it, we choose to stop growing, I think, and that is one thing I do not want to do. I love the safety and comfort of the known at least as much as the average bear. But stagnancy scares me more than the loss of my comfort zones, and my pioneer blood calls me forth. "Explore!" it urges. "Experience. Go where you have never gone before. Great things lie before you, so step bravely forth."