Dear Readers,
On this topic, I’m open to suggestions.
I have never liked the process or substance of the parting of ways and as a consequence, I’m lousy at it. Awkwardly bad. Embarrassingly bad.
The family legacy of the “bad goodbye” was my oldest sister Ann’s predictable tantrums as the moment approached for her to return to college in Portland from some short stay at home. My parents said that these outbursts were due to her mixed feelings of separation from her loving family of origin, so she needed to trump up some excuse to want to leave (have you noticed lately either a reluctance to use the term “trump up” even when it is appropriate to do so, or then again an eagerness to insert the term… I’m not sure what???). Well, that was their social worky analysis of what was happening related to teen separation anxiety. It could have been that just like any 17 year old, you can only handle the folks for so long before it is time to leave – again – the nest.
I don’t remember exactly getting into fights when I said goodbye to folks, but the theme for me has been much more the stress of not knowing how to sum up properly the positive experience of being together, or more simply, not liking anything about saying goodbye. If is was good to be with someone, why does it have to end, and if it wasn’t that good, what does one say?
Time and time again, I have failed at the goodbye. (Macabre alert… do not read the rest of this paragraph if you don’t have taste for the tasteless.) My classic and maximalist failure was to sort of say goodbye – poorly and incompletely – to my dying sister, Ann, at her bedside. Leaving to go to the car, I realized I had lost my car keys. A half dozen of us ended up searching her bed (with her in it), before my niece found that I had left the keys on the top of the car.
This trip to Israel has been filled with a weird kind of hybrid of saying goodbye or anticipating that saying. Three months is a definitive ending, yet it is a ways off. My fellow students in ulpan, my relatives who I can see see for multiple times, the folks at Bimkom where I am volunteering and others at choir or ping pong. Are these ongoing relationships or just preliminaries to a goodbye?
As I have already mentioned in a previous entry of this blog, my cousin Sybil from South Africa decided, after a conversation with me expressing my assessment of her sister Adele’s aged frailty, to come to Israel to see her sister in a nursing home. This was almost certain to be – but nothing is ever certain – the last time she would see her. So, in a manner, the opportunity to say goodbye. Sybil and I talked about what that meant to her and what similar experiences meant to me. I won’t discuss here the details. That is her privacy at stake. But the core question she faced, and most all of us face at one point or other, is how to say goodbye to someone important in our lives, when we think it is likely to be the last time together, but one may not be able to come right out and say it.
The experience of witnessing Sybil, in front of me and my wife Jean, Adele’s son Danny and his partner Shirley, taking on this task/opportunity to say something special and akin to goodbye, has been the emotional highlight of this trip. Sybil was magnificent. And so was Adele, rising to the occasion. Each acting in a unique (for them) and binding way.
The Israelis may not have figured this goodbye thing out. But I kinda like the Hebrew. The word for goodbye is Shalom. The word for hello is Shalom. The word for peace is Shalom. You can also say Lahitraot (see you again) or just Lahit, for short. But perhaps Shalom is the most comforting expression. It doesn’t HAVE to mean goodbye. And just like the elusiveness of peace in this volatile and always tense part of our world, we can always hope for another chance to fix what has been broken, and another chance to say hello.
Daniel's Derekh 
Skip goodbye. Say thank you. Then you can’t go wrong.
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I like that. So helpful and direct.
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After a casual social encounter, if you tell someone you enjoyed your time together and look forward to seeing them again, nobody can feel shortchanged. And knowing you, Daniel B. Farber, I’m pretty sure the feeling will be mutual.
With loved ones, whatever their state of health, I just try to make sure they know they are always in my heart and on my mind.
And I like your thoughts about “shalom!”
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“Another chance to say hello .” Nice fade Daniel
And ….links to the Romance language hopefulness Of Au Revoir ( see you later- aka another’s chance!) which snuck into the Teutonic parting : Auf Wiedersehen ( until our next sighting).
And there’s always the “Parting is such SWEET sorrow “ ( Schopenhauer, uh Shakespeare?), with the sweet/good feel not letting the pain thing get away with it all.
And , finally the Spanish / Mazatlan :Adios , going along with the English Good-bye – the contraction of “God be with you” parting. Fun stuff Ciao ! ( Italian/ Lat: Hello/ Goodbye) F
Sent from my iPhone
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I do like a-dios in its original form. It is so well-intended.
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Another thoughtful post about issues we all face.
I don’t remember Annie’s tantrums around family visits, only that she clearly needed time away with her other life. My guess is that’s pretty normal for a large swath of American kids, with or without social worky parents.
You say that you find even routine goodbyes stressful. I think that’s because your nature is to find meaning in life’s moments and articulate that meaning with others. (This blog!) That’s a wonderful part of your character but obviously can be burdensome.
I don’t mind most good byes, unless they end up with me standing outside for 10 minutes in 40 degree drizzle. I don’t find a need to sum up the visit explicitly, though through my statements you might get some idea.
“Glad I got a chance to see your new car” may be true as is “Your visit made my week,” but taken separately the meaning is different.
As for the more significant moments, I look forward to hearing more about Sybil’s good bye to Adele upon your return. And before then to your next post!
Love,
O
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Interesting that you didnt recall her tantrums. I do distinctly remember a conversation between dad and me about it. Perhaps this is because you were in the house less than 2 years longer than Ann? Was it one or two grades apart for you two?
On Fri, Apr 5, 2019, 4:29 PM Daniel's Derekh wrote:
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Oh, I thought Ciao was a little dog that will bite you for no reason (stolen from Groucho Marks.)
Brian
From: Frederick Romero
Sent: Thursday, April 4, 2019 3:09 PM
To: Daniel’s Derekh
Cc: brianhovis@msn.com
Subject: Re: [New post] How to Say Goodbye
“Another chance to say hello .” Nice fade Daniel
And ….links to the Romance language hopefulness
Of Au Revoir ( see you later- aka another’s chance!) which snuck into the Teutonic parting : Auf Wiedersehen ( until our next sighting).
And there’s always the “Parting is such SWEET sorrow “ ( Schopenhauer, uh Shakespeare?), with the sweet/good feel not letting the pain thing get away with it all.
And , finally the Spanish / Mazatlan :Adios , going along with the English Good-bye – the contraction of “God be with you” parting.
Fun stuff
Ciao ! ( Italian/ Lat: Hello/ Goodbye)
F
Sent from my iPhone
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And, of course, from the 50’s we would say, “catch you on the flip-flop”.
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That’s a completely new one on me!
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