I said goodbye, but I didn't really mean it. Does anyone, really? It's like that girl who lived in Grover's Corners in that play I saw in high school. She just wouldn't go away, would she? I remember I was supposed to like the play. It's "Our Town" for God's sake. But I thought it was going to be uplifting -- Our town, yeah, this is where we belong, right? Wrong. You're dead, move along.
Spalding Gray played the narrator in "Our Town" during his career. He said goodbye to his family when he stepped off the ferry into the frigid water. He just slipped away. Gone. Although he did take the time to say goodbye.
I tend to linger in my farewells. It's the same way in my writing. One time I took a workshop in beginnings of stories. We wrote several opening paragraphs, it was great. I think I'd do very well at writing a book if someone else would just finish it up for me.
We're supposed to be writing about a goodbye. Just one? And what about a badbye? Why isn't that a term? Certainly they do happen. I think that just proves that the phrase goodbye is pure convention. It means nothing.
In yoga, sometimes my instructors talk about creating a continuous breath, with no real break between the inhale and the exhale. There is no inhale or exhale, just breath. There is no life or death, just energy. There is no hello. No goodbye.
But that really is the ultimate goodbye if we get down to it isn't it, death? Death pisses me off. It's like there are only two options in dealing with it -- either ignoring it or becoming a goth kid and focusing one's life around it. Although that's kind of like ignoring it, too. Ignore life and you ignore death. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe.
I felt nervous when I heard the prompt, write about a goodbye, because they're never really happy. Light and airy. Although my mom says she's not afraid of saying goodbye anymore after watching my grandfather die. I envy her that. She was the only one in the room who wasn't crying.
Goodbye. The hardest work for a girl to say to her father as he puts her on a plane after a week's visit. When will I see you again? I don't know. But Barry Manilow's song "Weekend in New England" makes her cry at age 6. When will I see you again?
Goodbye.
Saying goodbye to a well-lived life is satisfying. . . saying goodbye as you were boarding the airplane to visit your father is the most painful thing I've ever done.
ReplyDeleteI often think of Our Town when life seems sweet and fleeting, so I enjoyed seeing your reference to it here.
ReplyDeleteAndrew Ellis' brother directed it at the C of I the year before you arrived and they cast me as the narrator, which I was absolutely thrilled about.
Anyway - I'm enjoying your blog, Rachel.