I have this tendency to view farewells as though they are merely “see ya laters.” Part of this is probably a self defense mechanism–if you think of it as goodbye, there’s no chance you can hold it together long enough to get everything done and tackle all the activities involved with moving house.

Part of it is a sincere belief that I’m actually going to see everyone later. I have an army of people in my life who will attest to the fact that I am not an easy person to get rid of/lose track of. If you are important enough in my life that I want to spend time with you before moving away then chances are you haven’t nearly heard the last of me. Just ask the Hollands. As a collective, they’ve probably said “goodbye” to me as many times as they’ve fed me, which is a lot of times. And I just keep showing back up for things.

I take the concept of “extended family” very seriously.

So while our “going away” party at the Butler’s the other night was lovely (great food, great drinks, good laughs) it was difficult for me to be in the “goodbye moment,” particularly since we’re still here for a few more weeks and will see just about everybody again. But it was a very nice gathering and one we will always be thankful to the Butler family for hosting.

The Hardest Goodbye

There were some emotional moments, particularly between the Butlers and Tanya.

That parting will uniquely change things for everyone involved. It’s a much more difficult and conclusive farewell than any we will have with our adult friends. Kids grow. Little kids don’t remember stuff from when they were two and three.

Tanya has been entwined in these lives for more than three years in a way that I have never been connected to children. And it isn’t enough to know that we will see them again, many times in the years ahead-the relationships are likely to be dramatically different.

So while it is easy for me to say “see ya later” to all of my grown-up friends, Tanya is struggling daily with how to actually say “goodbye” to three kids under the age of five and a part of her life that can only be revisited in memory and photo albums. It breaks my heart daily to know that there is not a thing I can do to make that any easier.