On saying good-bye and moving on

I recently took a deep breath and sent out a piece of writing I worked on for a while. It feels like saying good-bye to a good friend who will be gone for a long time. And they don’t have a cell phone or access to internet so you can’t keep in touch with them.

I miss my regular early morning coffee with them. I sit down at the dining room table and they’re not there. They’ve gone off on an adventure to “find themself.” And I’m left all alone, to figure out what to do from here. Maybe I’ll hear from them eventually, and maybe I won’t. It’s the not knowing that hurts.

I reminisce about exploring together, tinkering together, and finding meaning together. My heart aches a bit. But it wasn’t always fun or exhilarating. Sometimes is was hard. Sometimes we didn’t know what to say and just sat there at the table or at the coffee shop and tried to avoid eye contact. Something was blocking us and we had to dig deep to find out what it was. Or we had to take a little break from each other. But we always came back together. I cared too much not to.

Now there is the possibility that they might not come back. Or they might come back changed, in a heart-wrenching way.

I think about moving on, about finding another friendship. But “it-won’t-be-the-same” holds me back. 

So I stare at my screen, Googling desperately for anything of interest, while my coffee gets cold.

There is one kernel of a new friendship that could develop. Potentially. I found it the other day. Do I take the leap?

I’m still haunted by the one who is somewhere out there. But at the same time, I hate drinking coffee by myself.

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