Goodbye

I've come to terms with the word "good-bye."

 
I've accepted that no matter what situation I'm in -- the separation anxiety may come, but I will not allow it to beat me. Most good-byes are temporary and those that seem final are bound to come full-circle at one point in your life or later. Whether it's dropping the kids off at school or seeing your loved one's name inscribed on a stone -- it's never final, just temporary.

 

If I only knew that when I was dealing with my first big bout with good-bye, I think my departure from family would have been less heartbreaking and scary when I left my hometown of El Paso to attend college at Texas Tech in Lubbock, Texas, some 10 years ago.

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I couldn't believe I was actually going through with it. My dad closed the trunk to his car and finished loading my boyfriend's truck. I was off to Lubbock for college. What was I thinking? It was too late to turn back as we headed three hours into the road trip. Why didn't I just go to my hometown college UTEP? Ugh. My stomach was in knots and throughout the road trip my anxiety took front seat.

My parents, my boyfriend at the time and his father were dropping me off at my dorm room. The weekend flew by as they moved me in. My time with them was brief, and it was time to part. I didn't know anyone in town at that time, not even who my roommate was going to be. The four of us walked slowly up to the dorm building elevators. They walked me to my dorm room one last time. Every moment seemed too fast.

 

It was in that moment I thought my decision to leave home would surely consume me. I told my boyfriend's father goodbye first, then hugged my dad so tight and tried to hold in my tears while hiding my face in his shirt.

 

No one had ever left town for college in my family. We were all too close. Up until the moment I graduated my parents supported my decisions in high school. Once I told them I wanted to leave for college -- they didn’t seem thrilled. The local newspaper interviewed my mother with a headline that read "Leaving the Nest." The article revolved around teens of tight-knit Hispanic families who typically tended to stay close to the flock when it came to choosing a college. My mother was heartbroken, yet was quoted offering her support and trust in my decision to study elsewhere.  

During my final good-bye with my mother at my college dorm, I could see her lips quivering and tears rolling down her face. She hugged me so tight and kissed me on the cheek. She stepped back, looked at me and told me she was proud of me.

 

Why didn't I just go to UTEP?

 

I was the youngest of the six. Her baby was growing up too fast. They left me in the hallway to say bye to my boyfriend. How was a long distance relationship between us going to work? I hugged and kissed him goodbye.

 

As they all walked away, I lost it in the hallway. Why didn't I just go to UTEP? My mom came back out of the elevator to comfort me and for one last hug as if we would never see each other again. I closed the door to my dorm room. Stared out the window and watched them drive . . . home. I regretted my decision to leave town. That was and still is the hardest goodbye I have ever experienced. I have had my share of loss in my life in other ways but not by my choice. When it's your own decision to leave, doubt sets in.

 

"Thereafter, I became good at good-byes but that doesn't mean they ever truly left my heart feeling good. Leaving just got easier and more routine is all."

It was just a couple hours before I was getting ready to go live for a noon show at my first TV job in Amarillo. My phone rang. It was my sister. I'll call her later. I continued setting up my phone interviews when my cell phone rang again and again. It's my sister. This time my heart sank. I knew -- I just knew something was wrong.

 

After two strokes in three years, my grandma was in her last moments as the family slowly filed into the nursing home that day: whether it was leaving work early and trying to beat traffic or getting taken out of class early to give Grandma one last kiss. They were all there to say good-bye. I on-the-other-hand sat at my desk eight hours away from where she was in El Paso and stared at my phone.

 

I rushed to the airport and went through airport security a mess: mascara smeared from crying. I was worn out but still hopeful my flight was not going to be delayed one second. In a way, I was hoping to turn back the hands of time.

 

I sat staring at my carry-on. I couldn't even remember what I threw in it. I was waiting for my airplane to board. Getting frequent updates from my mother and brother letting me know how my grandma was doing. Although my brother stayed calm with me, I could hear it in his voice -- I wasn't going to make it home on time. He placed the phone against my grandma's ear. I closed my eyes, as tears rolled down my face forgetting I was amongst strangers. I told her how much I loved her. How much she meant to me. How much I wished I could be right there by here side. Her stroke compromised her ability to speak. I heard her try though. I heard her one last time. Then I said, "good-bye."

"I could hear it in his voice -- I wasn't going to make it home on time."

I sit here writing this at home in El Paso on my parent's computer. Finished with college, I'm back full circle. I'm living with my parents in the room I grew up, in the room I once cried to leave when I first went to college -- as I wait on where my career takes me next. But oddly, this typically loud and busy house is empty. Half of my siblings were relocated for their jobs within the last year. For those who have to be away from their kids, it's especially hard when your kids are too young to understand the concept of distance and time.

My point: whether it's by choice or out of your control, good-byes can build you or break you. If it's an airport that separates you, a break-up, the military, your job, divorce, custody or death -- good-byes are a consequence of your own decisions past and present or just a matter of time. They are inevitable, but some -- only temporary.