How to Say Goodbye

Shopping for cookie ingredients

Now that I have left the ground in England, I have become very reflective about my time there, especially the end.  In the past six weeks, I think I have said more goodbyes than in the rest of my life put together.  I have said goodbye to England, to my life there, my habits and favourite places, the now familiar customs and culture, the food.  And to friends.  Most of all, to the many friends I have made.  The people I’ve met have made the biggest difference in my life here, and I have cried my eyes out, again and again, for so many goodbyes.  As it turns out, I’m terrible at goodbyes.  No stolid reserve here.  And I have absolutely no shame about crying in public.  People are staring?  I’m making a scene?  Let them stare, I don’t care.  

Here’s why I’ve been saying goodbye for six weeks straight:  I’ve always known the date of my flight back to the US, so that has always sat on my conscious like a deadline I have to make.  I also knew all along that the backpacking Eurotour I just finished would be shortly before I left England permanently, so the visits I made during my Eurotrip would be my last visits with those people.  Meaning, I have been saying goodbye, slowly and one-by-one, since I left England for my Eurotrip on 22 May.  And now it’s 3 July and I think I’ve said all the goodbyes I can possibly handle.

I said goodbye to my habits of daily life.  This week I walked the all-too familiar route to Sainsbury’s for the last time, and I took a moment to savour the habitual nature and familiarity of it.  And I walked to the other supermarket, just as I have done so many times in the past five months.  I ran my favourite routes, like when I was training for the race in Brussel.  I walked to a friend’s house late at night for the last time.  And I cleaned the kitchen and did the washing up and made tea for others and made sure I fixed in my mind what my daily life here felt like.  I want to remember these things because they are the moments that add up to be my life in England.  This makes them precious, no matter how insignificant they seem.

Manchester, seen from Oldfield Road on the way to Sainsbury's

Saying goodbye to friends was harder.  When I left to travel Europe, I was one of the first people to leave at the end of the semester.  Some of my friends were still studying for exams, in fact.  But I was done and I had a flight to Amsterdam to catch.  So I said goodbye to my housemates and my friends, and even though I knew I’d see the quite a few of them when I returned from traveling, I cried my eyes out.  It was the shock of it all, the abruptness of finishing exams and leaving so soon afterwards.  Me.  Tears streaming down.  I was a mess.

Alessio, Prerna, Rens, and Roger

And when I started traveling Europe, I visited some cities alone and stayed with friends I’d met in England in others.  And each time I left one of those cities, it was another goodbye to a friend I’d made this semester.  I have an image in my head of each of them smiling and waving back at me as I smiled and cried and waved.  It was painful, doing this over and over with different friends in different cities, but in a lot of ways, it was great, too.  I had a personal goodbye with each one of these people, which allowed me to say goodbye to my England life slowly and deliberately.  More meaningfully, I think.

Note the cup of tea on the table and
David's face wondering why I'm
tainting tea time with my camera.

And when I returned to Manchester after my Eurotour, for the grandest reunion I’ve ever experienced, I had two fantastic days with one of my closest friends, Prerna, before she had to say her final goodbyes and return to India.  And naturally I cried enough for the both of us when she left.  We spent the last two days doing the things we’d always done -- walking around Manchester city centre, going to the supermarket, cooking.  And talking, of course.  Endless hours of talking.  

Once Prerna left, I spent my time saying goodbye to this place that I love so much.  I did souvenir shopping and finished errands.  I had dinner every night with Rens and Alessio in Prerna’s house, which always has been my second home in Castle Irwell, and I spent the afternoons drinking tea with my friend, David.  I saw the last bits of Manchester that I hadn’t seen, and I fantasised about how soon I’ll be back.  By the time my final day arrived, I was out of goodbyes.  I did everything I could do to hold on to this place, to memorialise my life here.  And I don’t regret a single second of it.  Every moment was brilliant, and each has expanded and enriched my life so much.  All around the city in the past two weeks I have seen posters for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2, the tagline for which is ‘It all ends.’  The first thought that jumped to my mind is that it’s perfect symbolism for my life right now.  The series is ending just like my life in England is ending.  But it’s not true.  I may have left this country that I love so much and this city that has become my home, but my life there goes on in the relationships I’ve made.  I’m walking away with a handful of fantastic friends, truly incredible and inspirational people.  And knowing that makes all these goodbyes a little more bearable.

My last morning in England, just before going to the airport