The Goodbye
“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.”
The 18th-century French poet and novelist Anatole France said “All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.” Those words rang so true as I spent the past few weeks saying a bittersweet goodbye to the place I have called home for the last 22 years.
We’ve all had to say goodbye many times in the course of our life. Saying goodbye to a dying relative or beloved pet signifies a definitive end to a life lived; there is no continuation of Iife, no new adventure, or another part of the journey. But we also say many other kinds of goodbyes; to relationships, to jobs, to our homelands, to co-workers. These goodbyes, while painful perhaps, can actually be the necessary catalysts for change so that life can reform in a totally new way.
Saying goodbye to the place we call home is not easy. It is the vessel that has had the unique privilege of housing the contents of our lives. It is the place where precious memories have been made. For many of us, it is the place we have aesthetically shaped and tailored to our own unique needs. The process of moving on is grueling, as one has to decide what will move on with you and what will not. In each piece of art, stick of furniture, or objet d’art there is a process of remembering (lovingly or painfully) how it came to be under your roof. I remember when we met and it was a humble little house with not much appeal other than its location, but there was something energetically there that made it feel like it was to be more than a temporary refuge.
Years of love, sweat, and money transformed that little caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly. As I took my last looks over the property I remembered the field of poison ivy that was now a lovely pool and pool houses, the old garden where the family room and kitchen now stands, and the now vacant stone benches where my bee hives once buzzed with activity.
Making the decision to move to another chapter of life is a very difficult one, but as France said, “We must die to one life before we can enter another”.
Life is a series of deaths and rebirths and deconstructions and building anew. The key is to realize there is no destination, just a continued journey. But along the way, we must give gratitude to the places that we’ve called home. I know I will always think of that lovely home and the life lived there with deep fondness. I hope it remembers me in kind.
Now, as the home is handed to its new stewards, I move on. Ironically, saying goodbye has a certain freedom to it. Now I feel no need for another permanent home or many possessions to ground me at this point in my journey. I think “home” will be wherever Frankie and I roam and I will be reminded that if we are happy and content then that is the best place to live.
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