Silly as it sounds, every time an RV pulls out of the park I feel a little sad. I don’t know why that is because I don’t even know these people. Oh sure, I say hello if they are outside when I walk Quincy. But other than knowing where they are from (because RV’s have license plates) I don’t really know these people at all. So it makes no sense to me that I feel sad when I see them leaving. Now, today was a little different because the people on the side of us that have been there since we moved our RV in last August left. They walked over to say goodbye and even though I don’t know their names (ironically I know their dogs names) and to tell us we were welcome to the BBQ grill they were leaving behind. They were headed back to North Carolina and not planning to return. Pretty nice grill they gave us. The thing is even though I didn’t even know their names, I knew their routines. I knew for example that every morning at 6:15 I would hear the sound of their gigantic diesel truck idling out side as it warmed up. I knew that everyday at 5:00 the man would return. And that within a couple of minutes of hearing his door slam I would hear the yip yip barking of their new maltipoo pup who got very excited when he opened the door each day. And even though I didn’t know their name, or phone number I knew that if I needed help when Joe was at work that I could simply walk next door (or scream real loud) and they would come to my rescue. Course, the bright side, the positive spin (because I can always find one) is that maybe whoever moves in next will be a talker like me (the lady that just moved definitely wasn’t) and I’ll meet a new friend.
I wonder if the sense of loss is compounded because I’ve been thinking about loss for the last few days. One of my friends lost a friend last week and though I didn’t know the man that died, I could empathize with my friend and know how sad she must’ve felt to lose him. And then of course, tomorrow is the 8 year anniversary of my mom’s death and so when I woke up this morning my first thought was what I was doing 8 years ago today, the day before. And the answer was I was at my parents home surrounded by family and friends that had come to see her knowing that her death was imminent. And thinking how hard it is to say goodbye to people you love.
I was thinking about loss and I have been very fortunate in my life that I have not had a lot of losses due to death. Sometimes the loss is only temporary, like when someone goes away for a trip or something. I remember when the boys were little and Mike traveled some times for 3-4 weeks at a time, how sad the boys would be for a few days until they altered their routines and how happy they would be when he returned. Yet knowing that he would be leaving again always seemed to mar my joy at seeing him because I knew that when he left again, I would have to deal with those emotions, both mine and the boys all over again. When we moved from Kingfisher to Muskogee after living there for a couple of years, my mom was devastated. The loss of seeing her grandsons on a daily basis was profound. We visited as often as possible and every time we got there she would be super excited to see the boys. Then she would start to cry. Andy would say, “why are you crying mema? Aren’t you glad we are here?” and she would say “I am sad because you will have to leave again in a couple of days”. Every visit included a joyous reunion followed by tears of the anticipated leaving then joy while we were there, then the tears of saying goodbye until the next visit. It was gut wrenching. I felt guilty every time I left and though I know that wasn’t her intention, it made it hard to go sometimes knowing that I’d have to leave and go through that emotional upheaval again. Once we left the boys with her for a week while Mike and I went on vacation and when we returned and picked them up, we hugged goodbye and left and as soon as we got out of the driveway all at once we realized that she didn’t cry. Guess a week of 2 little boys was enough to keep her from feeling super sad when we left.
Some goodbyes remain in your memory for a lifetime. Like moving away from Joni Rasbury when I was 12. We had been inseparable friends since we were 5 or 6 years old. I will never forget looking out the back window of the car as we drove away and seeing her and her family standing in the front yard waving goodbye. Most of my best memories of my childhood have Joni in them. And then there was the goodbye when I got married and moved to New Mexico the next day. I had never been that far away from home before and that was the only year in54 that I wasn’t home for Christmas eve. I still remember the phone call home that Christmas eve and hearing everyone in the background and feeling a sadness like I had never felt before.
And then there are the goodbyes that aren’t permanent but are life changing. Like dropping your kid off at college knowing that you have to let them “fly” on their own and make their own choices and decisions and you have no real knowledge of what they are doing or where they are from that point on. Ironically, I was still dealing with the loss that comes from divorce when I had to deal with Chris going off to college. I look back and remember the silence in the house when Chris moved out. Andy was still there but yet we had both lost something that day. And within a few short months I would be dealing with the most devastating loss I have ever experienced when my mom died.
By the time Andy left for college I was a pro at dealing with change and though I missed him terribly, I knew from experience that the overwhelming, crushing sense of sadness that day as I returned home to an empty house would get better and that within a few months, I would have adapted to yet another change in my life.
Sometimes when I am talking with Joe and he is relating stories of growing up in the “children’s home” I am overcome with sadness as I think of that little boy in that home surrounded by people but surrounded by people that would come and go. And I wonder how he managed to cope so well with all those losses and still grow up to be able to connect with people so well. He said that after a while it became normal to him, the new faces, the familiar ones gone and you just didn’t think about it anymore. The saddest story I’ve heard from him was the day his dad dropped him and his siblings at the home. His mother had been hospitalized and as a child of 3 he had no way of comprehending that he would never be home again. I can picture his dad dropping of his 4 children, abandoning them really, and what must’ve been going through little Joe’s mind. And then to suffer the loss of his siblings one by one as they were adopted out to different families. To be put to bed that first night in a strange place in a room of strange people with a strange woman(the house mother) telling him goodnight. And though the Children’s home was a good place to be, a safe place, a roof over his head, plenty of food, the emotional impact of that has remained and shaped his life.
Six months after my job loss, I still feel a profound sense of sadness when I think of my former co-workers. Many of them will remain friends for life. Still it will never be the same. Because the day to day interaction will no longer be there. Heck I felt a huge sense of sadness when my class reunion was over because I knew that it would be years before I saw some of my old classmates (many of whom I hadn’t seen in 35 years) again. And every Sunday I feel a deep sense of loss knowing I won’t be there to sing in the choir or play bells or worship with people who had become a family to me in the last few years.
And yet the only way to avoid loss is to have nothing to lose. I suppose that’s what happens to some people along the way. They withdraw into a shell of self preservation, unwilling to make new friends or risk relationships because the end result could be loss, will be loss because everyone dies. But oh the things they miss out on. I guess that given the choice I would choose to be the vulnerable, emotionally connected person that I am and learn to live with the losses I experience than have nothing to lose.
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