On Saying Goodbye: Parting is such sweet sorrow

In Wandering Stars Tommy Orange writes that each sunset is a little death. Since moving to New York, I have contemplated goodbyes, the inherent grief in saying farewell.

To be honest, the response to my leaving overwhelmed me. One of my core fears is disappearing and no one noticing, so I invite my dear readers into this conversation. In June and July I received many offers for goodbye lunches and dinners from friends and family. Some of which I have not spoken more than “Merry Christmas to you too” in years. 

Over all, the response flattered me:

There were long lunches, farewell dinners, impromptu invites to coffee and an unprecedented clearing of schedules in the greater Orange County and Inland Empire. There were heartfelt text messages and tearful toasts (a few unsolicited airing of grievances) and many generous gestures I mull over at night when I’m drifting to sleep. On the other hand, each time I left one of these farewells, I would think:

“why do we wait to connect until it is too late?” 

London Ladies: A whirlwind weekend of hellos and goodbyes

Tonight, I’m flying home from London where I just spent a long weekend settling Elizabeth into her dorm. For the last few days, we noshed on chocolates in Harrods, sauntered through the Victoria and Albert Museum, and dined at Princess Diana’s favorite restaurant, Da Marios, all of which are just a few blocks from Liz’s dorm. We shopped in Covent Garden and lunched in Soho.We drank champagne and got caught in the rain on Carnaby Lane. We sipped Earl Grey Tea and visited a Poetry Pharmacy!

 One of my favorite people in the charted universe met me in London to ease my labor this weekend. (Darling, thank you for holding my hand, offering Elizabeth wisdom, and galavanting around Picadilly with me. My heart is at rest knowing you two are close.) 

While I am thrilled for her as she embarks on this extraordinary adventure. I am cognizant this passage marks a beginning and an end. There was a bittersweet after taste to each joyful moment. And even though I tried to “pre grieve” and steel my jaded heart, I’m sobbing as I type this blog flying home. Alone. 

Goodbyes, like sunsets, are little deaths.

Part of me died this weekend. Zombie like, I stumbled through Heathrow Airport disillusioned and dizzy just as I was 18 years ago leaving the hospital searching those brand new brown eyes thinking “well what I do now?” Children are thrust into our arms with little-to-no explanation of how to embark on motherhood and similarly, they are ripped from us just when they’ve become a stellar hang- except, this time, we're handed a large tuition bill. 

Elizabeth arrived into this world two weeks before her due date. She was running by 10 months old, she learned to read before kindergarten, she declared herself an Environmental Vegan at age 7. When I introduced her to Barrett at age 9 and asked her how she liked him she said, “I think it’s a little early in the evening for that question. Don’t you?” She was born a little woman with a mind and dream of her own. 

Yes, she's wearing a triangle top bikini under her halter top.

Mama Mia! A brief review of motherhood

One of Shakespeare’s greatest gifts to writers is the play within a play structure. For the grand finale of Elizabeth and I’s weekend, we saw Mama Mia in the West End. I booked the tickets, because Mama Mia is her favorite film.

What I failed to realize is that I purchased a front row seat to my own grief. In a crowded theater of mothers and daughters, I wept as I watched the strong, single mother Donna reckon with her past and her daughter’s future. Donna sings a song of the joys and sorrows of motherhood, Slipping Through My Fingers. I never paid attention to the lyrics below until the other night and was pretty pissed at the universe for this set up which, in my opinion, was a little too on the the nose. To paraphrase Amy Poehler, I would rather throw up in public than cry in public.

School bag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning

waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness

Slipping through my fingers all the time

I try to capture every minute

The feeling in it

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Do I really see what's in her mind?

Each time I think I'm close to knowing

She keeps on growing

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Donna is as extraordinary as her daughter. In this play, both the mother and the daughter are at a crossroads. They both have dreams they want to pursue, and these dreams are best pursued alone. In the end, her daughter decides to leave the island and explore the world and her dream. Perhaps, for a youngling, it is difficult to grow in the shadow of a large tree.

My Bear always reminds me I’m not a single mother anymore... which is true..

Yet, there is a solitude in motherhood which is difficult to describe.

We are stewards- bringing life into this world alone.

I don’t care the number of people in that birthing room. It is a lonely, painful endeavor.  And if we are lucky enough to walk out of the delivery room alive, we are forever changed.

Motherhood is a tricky business of losses and gains. Anyone who says differently is selling something. And much of our journey raising children is a solitary one, the responsibilities just like the trimesters, taking a toll on our aching backs. 

I am reminded of a scene in Wonder Woman when Diana leaves the island. Her mother says, “Diana, you been my greatest joy. Today you are my greatest sorrow.” I won’t always feel this way, but I’m giving myself permission to feel this way today.

Thank you for the music.

I’m comforted in knowing there is no parenting finish line. Not really. After all, my father and I cultivated our relationship to the fullest in adulthood. For now, I just feel incredibly grateful to know such an incredible young women who will get to visit often. I’m praying to the old gods and the new that I taught Elizabeth to wield her big girl voice and showed her how to fly- or at least how to fall with style.

Tonight is my first official class, so I have home work to do... Later this week I'll post my Ultimate Guide to Indian Restaurants in London. I ate at five this weekend!!

No champagne toast this week. I need to study.