The art of saying goodbye

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake
And no birds sing

Keats

When during our peregrinations we make the mistake of spending the weekend with an old friend, knowing that a parting is inevitable, the ecstasy of the meeting is followed by a sense of loss, dismay and hopelessness. Nothing will alleviate the pain of the parting, the knowledge that life will go back to its rhythm. Here’s what I’ve learnt in the last 48 hours.
The sense of loss will pass. Don’t fight it. There will come a time when you will open your eyes in the morning and find yourself whole. In the meantime…
Get drunk. I’ve never believed in boring others with emotions. So meet a few friends, get drunk and go to sleep. (Drink a glass of water before you hit the sack. It helps with the hangover).
Brace yourself. You will find yourself in such a situation again. You have two choices – become Keats’ La Belle Dame Sans Merci and you’ll never again drown in that overwhelming sense of loss. Or, enjoy the memories, knowing that to love, to meet and to part is inevitable. I prefer the latter, though I have been accused by many of being the former.
Get on with life. There are more important things than living in the past. There will be new experiences, new adventures, and of course… new pain. But then, no one said life is easy. There are worse things than having to say goodbye.