Goodbyes
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always detested saying goodbye. When I was in kindergarten, I would throw a tantrum at my yaya whenever she would hold me and keep me from running after my mom when my mom was going away for work. Whenever my auntie and my cousins were about to leave after a short visit to my mom and me, I would feel totally sad and after a while, tears would be silently rolling down my face. During vacations to Bicol, it would take a tremendous amount of patience to convince me to go ungrudgingly with my Mom, but after spending a few weeks of vacation, I would be feeling all teary, sad and blue on the way back to Manila. Come gradeschool, my bestfriend had to move to Rhode Island, and until now, I remember that fateful morning where I had to say goodbye, put down the phone, and cry silently after.
Yes, I was quite a crybaby when I was a kid, something which I think I’ve outgrown now. Yet some things stay the same, such as never really being good at goodbyes.
Javier dropped by this afternoon to give me some of his unconsumed food. He was on his way back to Spain to spend the two-week Toussaint vacation in his homeland, and since he still had lots of spare food in his refrigerator, he decided to give it to me and our Polish friends. Delighted, I put everything in the refrigerator, had a short chat with Javier, after which he jokingly said that I should not feel too sad spending my holidays in ICAM. Suddenly, pangs of melancholy swept over me and for some bizarre reason, I felt sad that I had to say goodbye to Javier. Giving myself a slap on the head, I silently scolded myself that it was just two weeks, that I would also be going on vacation, and I had other friends to keep me company. And then I remembered that come January, my other Filipino friends will be going back home already, and so will be some of my Polish friends, thus leaving Lille a drearier place. I could feel the familiar sense of melancholy again, and thus, I’m now here typing away the growing anxiety.
Why is it like this in the first place? I feel sad all over but I know that life will go on, and after a few weeks’, or months’ time, I would be back to the hustle and bustle of life, and the vicious cycle continues.
Life is comprised of too many crosswords. You meet people every day in the street – people who you might not be able to see again ever in your life. I’ve met lots of new people here in France, and it astonishes me that like the people in the street, some of these people who I’ve actually spent even a few minutes of talking with will never cross my life again. And I’m a bit afraid that after my 10-month stay here in France, the relationships which I have cultivated here would suddenly just snap off, as if it was just a faraway dream.
I remember what one of my teachers told me during one of my first few days here in Lille. You’ll cry two times in your stay here in France – one when you just arrived because you miss your homeland, and the other when you’re about to leave already after having built strong relationships with your friends in France already. When he told me about it before, I simply shrugged it off thinking it wouldn’t happen to me. Yet now, I’m writing about goodbyes.
Yes, I was quite a crybaby when I was a kid, something which I think I’ve outgrown now. Yet some things stay the same, such as never really being good at goodbyes.
Javier dropped by this afternoon to give me some of his unconsumed food. He was on his way back to Spain to spend the two-week Toussaint vacation in his homeland, and since he still had lots of spare food in his refrigerator, he decided to give it to me and our Polish friends. Delighted, I put everything in the refrigerator, had a short chat with Javier, after which he jokingly said that I should not feel too sad spending my holidays in ICAM. Suddenly, pangs of melancholy swept over me and for some bizarre reason, I felt sad that I had to say goodbye to Javier. Giving myself a slap on the head, I silently scolded myself that it was just two weeks, that I would also be going on vacation, and I had other friends to keep me company. And then I remembered that come January, my other Filipino friends will be going back home already, and so will be some of my Polish friends, thus leaving Lille a drearier place. I could feel the familiar sense of melancholy again, and thus, I’m now here typing away the growing anxiety.
Why is it like this in the first place? I feel sad all over but I know that life will go on, and after a few weeks’, or months’ time, I would be back to the hustle and bustle of life, and the vicious cycle continues.
Life is comprised of too many crosswords. You meet people every day in the street – people who you might not be able to see again ever in your life. I’ve met lots of new people here in France, and it astonishes me that like the people in the street, some of these people who I’ve actually spent even a few minutes of talking with will never cross my life again. And I’m a bit afraid that after my 10-month stay here in France, the relationships which I have cultivated here would suddenly just snap off, as if it was just a faraway dream.
I remember what one of my teachers told me during one of my first few days here in Lille. You’ll cry two times in your stay here in France – one when you just arrived because you miss your homeland, and the other when you’re about to leave already after having built strong relationships with your friends in France already. When he told me about it before, I simply shrugged it off thinking it wouldn’t happen to me. Yet now, I’m writing about goodbyes.
posted by Pia at
11:36 AM
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