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A Life Measured in Goodbye’s
How Many Farewells Does It Take Before You Stop Counting?
I never really thought much about goodbyes.
Each farewell felt like a tiny piece of my heart was taking off on its own journey.
It all began with the little, everyday partings — a nod, a casual wave, a simple “bye” that I barely noticed at first.
But as the years went by, those small moments started piling up, and I began to wonder if every goodbye was slowly chipping away at who I was.
I remember the day my childhood friend left town.
It was like watching the sunset on a day that I wasn’t ready to see end.
That farewell played on repeat in my mind, every laugh we shared and every secret whispered echoing in my heart.
Sometimes, it felt as if each goodbye left a tiny scar, a permanent reminder of a piece of me that would never be the same.
I’ve also said goodbye to the quiet corners of my life — the old house where every wall held a memory, the worn-out park bench where I spent lazy afternoons.
Every nook of that familiar place whispered stories of days gone by, stories that I could never quite relive, no matter how hard I tried.
