Final Moments

In the past few years I’ve become accustomed to hearing people make excuses when the time comes to part ways: “I’m no good at goodbyes,” “I hate this kind of thing,” “Saying goodbye is so awkward,” and so on and so forth. I’ve come to the conclusion that saying goodbye for an indefinite period of time is simply unnatural. It doesn’t seem right to think you may never see someone again. In fact, the most natural time to say goodbye may be just before or even after death.

I have just been through a great many indefinite goodbyes. Coming into these relationships I new they would be temporary. For 14 weeks I lived with these people. I cooked for them, cleaned with them, drank tea, took walks, studied heavily and experienced life with them. We traveled to exciting places, had new and amazing experiences and all of this shared time is now coming to a close.

At 8.00 this morning I watched my roommates stuff their suitcases and themselves into a taxi and drive away to the bus station. We have had our fairy tale experience. We have played our respective roles. Our stories are drawing to a close. I have but one chapter to write in mine before returning “home.” This afternoon I had a chapter to finish.

8 Crick Road is no longer my home. The dirty blue carpet, narrow staircase, overstuffed overused furniture, double spigot sinks, sweat-inducing duvees, silver kettle, special mugs, stinky fridge and low-pressure shower are no longer mine to use. I’ve become surprisingly attached to this way of life, and yet the time came to leave. The cupboards were emptied, beds stripped, suitcases packed, trash disposed of and keys turned in. 8 Crick Road is in a shambles and in need of deep cleaning and a 3-week rest period before it is overtaken by new inhabitants.

I openly admit there are things I am more than happy to leave behind, but there are others that have really grown on me. The blue tea cozy, the desire to cook with garlic, milk and sugar in my tea, twiglets, chocolate, a blue door, cooking with over a dozen other housemembers and staying up late into the night writing essays – all of these will keep Crick in my memory. The people that lived there will keep it in my heart. Marisa, Bethany, Alicia, Kreigh, Mikey, Pearson, Katharine (Kaf-win), Andrea, Megan, Laura, Carri, Matt (Melema), Matt Nye, Josh (Sooter), Kelsey, Elle, Benoit, Ben, Andrew, Crescent, Elise, Bethany Joy and Jonathan, especially Jonathan. How will I ever have a decent cup of tea again without him to make it for me? Who will take photos of my most memorable experiences? Who will I go to for advice on visiting new places? Who will walk me to church and follow it up with duck soup? Where will I go when I want to know anything about anything? Even a month ago I didn’t think I’d grow so attached to our junior dean, but I am told that difficulty in saying goodbye is just a sign of a truly invested friendship.

Walking down the Crick Road, backpack in place and suitcase in toe, I thought the rainy weather appropriate. Today was not one for clear skies or a sunny demeanor. Nor was it one for darkness and chilled breezes. The story is not a sad one, but few endings are truly happy.