saying goodbyes
“And in case I don’t see you, good afternoon, good evening, and good night.”
I’ve been in my hometown for the last weekend.
It’s election day this week in Indonesia, and I’ve come home to fulfill my civic duty. I also have been spending the last few days full of nostalgia.
It’s my first time back in Jogja this year, and I feel like so much has changed. Roads that used to be littered with potholes are now smooth asphalt, a Yoshinoya just opened on the road I used to drive through every day, and coffee shops that I used to frequent have long shut down.
It’s funny to think that there was a day when I left my favorite coffeeshop for the last time — that without knowing it, that would be the last time I’d ever get to sit in the coffee shop where I had spent countless hours sipping on coffee and working on assignments. As much as I wished the coffee shop would be there forever, I think a part of me knew it might close down one day.
But I always thought that there would be another tomorrow.
Now and then, I’ll come across a fragment of writing on the internet about unintended farewells and last times.
I remember my middle school graduation, and how we promised we’d hang out again. I remember the end of high school, and how we thought we’d be fine since we’d all be going to the same university. I remember my final year of university and how all convos ended with how we couldn’t wait to meet once COVID restrictions had lifted. I remember so many friends that I can’t remember when I talked to them last — or if they’d even recognize me if we passed each other on the street.
If life is just a series of hello and goodbyes, then I think the hellos happen mostly before your mid-20s, and everything afterward is mostly goodbyes. I’ve said goodbye to friends, to homes, to relationships, to restaurants, to family members, to coffee shops, to laptops, to phones, to so many things that I’ve lost track. Very few, if any, had a ceremonial goodbye. I didn’t know it was the last time until it was too late to say a proper goodbye.
Now, whenever I meet someone new, when we say our goodbyes I say “Nice to meet you” instead of “See you soon” because I just don’t see the point of expecting a friendship to bloom when it’s much more likely to be a fleeting encounter. I think we only get to be in the orbit of a few people in our lifetime, and for the vast majority, we are just passing comets, entering each other’s orbit for a moment before going on separate paths.
But I also had another observation during my drive through nostalgic streets this weekend — there’s still a lot that has stayed the same.
The burjo (basically a place to eat Indomie) I used to have dinner at with my debating community is still open, the security guards in my neighborhood have been the same people since I was 9 years old, and the Dunkin Donuts on the street I used to drive through has somehow refused to die.
I still think most of your adult life is learning how to say goodbye. But I think if you’re lucky, you get a chance to say goodbye properly. Your paths get to cross again one more time before leaving each other forever. You get to say everything you want to say, or even just say how grateful you are that you got to meet them in your lifetime.
If you’re even luckier, you’ll never have to say goodbye.
But knowing that I’ll always have to say goodbye has changed the way I approach new experiences/people. If I can only visit this place once, I’d like to be able to enjoy it as much as I can. If I can only meet this person once, I’d like to have a good impression of them and leave a good impression before we part forever.
If saying goodbye is the default, then I’ll make the most out of the time that I have.
If I treat everything as my last time, I’ll start to appreciate the time that I have a lot more.
So I guess I’ll enjoy all the time I have before I have to say goodbye to everything.
Who knows — maybe new hellos are waiting on the other end of the goodbyes.
Just gotta keep living to see what hellos and goodbyes will come.
