I hate goodbyes, if I
had my way anytime I left a job or relocated I would keep it under my hat,
walk out the room at the end of the day, throw out a ‘see ya tomorrow’ and then
drop a postcard from my new place.
Not because I don’t care, but generally because I care too much and I
want to avoid the whole entire goodbye scene.
Now when I was younger
I was the opposite. My family briefly nicknamed me hard hearted Hannah for a
while there as I hated showing emotion in public. Wait, I showed emotion, oh
plenty of that… but generally the angry kind, the sad kind was a big no
go for me. Then again, I also used
to rip off my dolls heads and put them in plastic bags in the freezer and stuff
their bodies in the cupboards, so looking back I may have had some issues as a
kid!
I was not looking
forward to saying goodbye to my home, my friends, my family, or my fur kids, oh
my fur kids. Eventually I knew they would be joining me, but how to prepare my
heart to be away from them in the meantime? I didn’t know how too, and even now, a few weeks after the fact, tears fall thinking of them, and my heart squeezes
as I remember walking away from them not knowing when I would see them
again. Family and friends I could
explain to, but for all my sprouting of “my pets know just what I say” did they
really? Or are they back in Australia tonight wondering where that person went too who used to love them so much once.
Though deciding to pack
up and go and actually getting gone was a slow process, I didn’t really ponder
the ramifications of leaving. Weird I know. I have left plenty of houses.
Plenty of homes. Ones that I have laughed and loved in, built friendships in,
fallen in and out of love in, had my precious fur kids in, so it took me by
surprise that when it came time to step outside the door and drive away one
last time from this rather simple little three bedder, that all of a sudden I
found myself faltering and not wanting to go. Who would talk to my old buried dog in the yard? Who would
look out the front windows now, and would someone else let the huntsman spiders
live!? It all felt wrong. I was caught between wanting someone else to love our
little house, and not wanting to give anyone else the chance.
As I walked through
once last time, the sun was setting outside. I was finishing the cleaning as I went. One by one I went
through mopping the hardwood floors. Turning out the lights on each room as I
finished. I could hear Iris Dements “Our Town” in my head.
The living room is
clean and I flick off the light.
I hear the lyrics in
my head “and you know the suns setting
fast, and just like they say nothing good ever lasts…”
I go through the
kitchen, mopping the floor, and turn of that light
“Go on now and kiss it goodbye but hold on to
your lover cause your hearts bound to die”
I’m in the laundry
now. Last room of the house. It’s done. I’ve mopped myself out the back door. I
lock up the house. I take a last look around my backyard and I go.
“Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our
town,
Can’t you see the sun’s setting down on our
town,
On our town, goodnight”
And that’s just the
bloody house folks! I’ve still got to say goodbye to family friends and furries
yet! Seriously, you wonder why I drink.
Anyway, long story
short, it ends up taking me six days to disentangle myself from my furries. I
keep saying “I’m not ready”. Truth be told had we not finally booked the plane
ticket a mere four days out from flying, I would still be sleeping in my
neighbours house (where they are being very capably minded), saying “I’m not
ready to say goodbye”. But I wasn’t
ready. I can’t even tell you how I cried. I could try, but it would be more
depressing than… I’m trying to think of a really depressing book here, and all
that popped into my mind is the Diary of Anne Frank, and well, I can’t be so
wrong to write that can I? Anyway, tears, there were many. I can even now
remember exactly how much it hurt. You know I have heard people say emotional
pain can be physical and I didn’t really ‘get’ it. But I hurt. My heart hurt,
like a giant fist was around it, squeezing it tight. Just remembering sitting on the bed hugging Jeffy, holding
Bennys face and smiling and crying all at once at his funny kelpie eyebrows,
and oh I can feel that fist again.
I cry again typing even now. I’m not sure if
that fist is trying to squeeze my heart and hurt me or if its holding my heart
together to stop it from falling apart. Needless to say, I miss them. More than
words can say. So I’ll stop trying.
And that folks, better
be that for tonight. I’ll leave
you with Iris Dement and Our Town. For the
record, it was the last song played, in the last scene, on the last episode on
Northern Exposure. But I like a
lot of her stuff. If I ever want to sit and cry (sometimes a girl loves a good
cry and wallow) listening to Iris singing “no time to cry” is just blissful.
