When I first met my husband, as an enthusiastic Foo Fighters fan, he tried and tried to convert me into a fan. Despite his best efforts, I held out for a l-o-n-g time, like years and years long. And then, it finally happened and he wasn’t even with me. I had arrived early at the charter school my girls attended at the time to pick them up and was walking around the park across the street listening to a Spotify playlist. What the Foo Fighters were doing on that particular playlist I’m not sure, nor can I recall the specific song that came on. What I do remember is I was hooked. If you’re not a fan of the Foos, there’s a song the band closes out every concert with, and, when frontman, Dave Grohl, introduces it, he always tells the audience he isn’t a fan of goodbyes. Instead of goodbye, he explains that the band prefers to say, see you next time and then they launch into Everlong.
Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate that approach to goodbyes. Like Dave Grohl, I’m not a fan of goodbyes either. Honestly, I’m not sure if there is anything harder than having to say goodbye to a favorite person or even a favorite place. Watching my girls have to go through that bittersweet moment is equally hard, and today, my youngest told me she understands that word—bittersweet—a little more deeply than she did previously. For her, her final session with a favorite OT was a meetup at my girl’s favorite Barnes & Noble, but she admitted there was a sadness around the meetup.
Leaving people, places, and even previous favorite things or interests behind can be difficult. But it’s not something we can avoid. As human beings we grow and change and that includes our needs and our interests and our circumstances or the circumstances of people we’ve come to know in our lives. In recent years I’ve watched each of my girls navigate these sorts of losses knowing there was little I could do except walk alongside them and support them in whatever small ways I could.
Tonight, they sat together and walked a bit of memory lane together. This is something they tend to do somewhat regularly, this reminiscing. Sometimes it involves the happy glow of nostalgia, while at other times it carries a bit of shared cringing over things they can’t believe they used to love or feel strongly about. They apply this reflection to different aspects of their lives—counselors they’ve seen, OTs they’ve worked with, crushes they’ve had, music they used to listen to and the associated playlists they created around that music, and even their artistic abilities and creative pursuits.
Letting go. Moving on. Saying goodbye. These are the hard things of life, aren’t they? And we never know when we first meet someone or dive into a new idea or band or book series or hyperfixation where it will lead. We hope it will be with us for a while, becoming a meaningful part of our journey. I know that’s how I’ve felt just about every time I’ve transitioned into a new season of life, exploring a new part of the path my life leads me down. Perhaps that is why I encourage myself as well as my girls to practice gratitude and mindfulness (a word they haven’t always appreciated). But I have learned the practice of presence matters. Being present with the ones we love, enjoying the pursuits that bring us joy, these are the things that help us create and define the life we are living. I, for one, find myself deeply grateful for the gift of these two remarkable young women. I also find myself a little more like Dave Grohl and the Foos, choosing to consider the bittersweet possibilities of see you next time rather than the finality of goodbye.