Farewells have surrounded me in this past few months. Me, and many who matter to me. More importantly, I have been part of many other peoples lives and such moments of separation from the things they love the most, or don’t at all. When I say I have been part of it, I have felt in many ways what they have felt. It's curious to have someone else's feelings inside you, especially of situations like these. It makes you feel queasy and empty and well, uncomfortable. And yet, they bring home the feeling of something ending, so clearly.
I have never
felt comfortable in the notion of ending
things. The end is usually a little too final for me. I rather keep windows
open. But life is trying hard to teach me the beauty in ending things. Like my
friends father who is finally moving into the 'world of civilians' after a most
remarkable career in the army. Or like a crazy little kid I know who is
stepping down from the company she created, because it is now sustainable in
itself. Such endings must feel so surreal, when the heights of one's
achievements are so high that you just cant see it anymore. Only others can.
All you see is the new road through a crack in the wall, and you long for the
first feeling of the excited unknown, all over again. These endings come as
boon to those who crave newer heights every single time. Like jack at the top
of his beanstalk saying, 'must go find another man who'd sell me a new variety
of beans this time.' The endings that come with a promise, with some
nervousness and with lots of expectation.
Then there is that
other kind of farewell. The one that makes you feel like saying 'Enough
already. Be done with this.' Like you turn the corner and find the edge of a
cliff, drifting off. I've seen so many of these two. Chapters in your life that
demand more and more be written on them, before you can finally manage to put
down your pen. Or give up writing. Things that dare you to end them. Things
that remind me of zombies. Constantly resurrecting from its own pile of shit
and ashes. You need to be careful with these types, as they won go by
themselves, until you have a strong mind to do so. They will hang around like
stray animals, waiting for you to notice. They constantly play on your
weaknesses, and that is almost like offering that zombie your head on a
platter.
But when you look at
them closely, farewells are always silent. Their attributes are usually a
figment of our mind, playing some rotten trick on us. The act of saying goodbye
is only a matter of letting go, for the good or otherwise. Silently watching something
detach from you, and grow independently, or die. But that is not your concern.
There is a hidden contentment in that word, when you decide that something
needs to transform into something else, and you don’t to hang around to watch
it. Your part ends when you say, farewell.
