Echo of a Hollow Goodbye Come Fulfilled

I'm no fan of goodbyes,
But I can't say I'm fazed by them.

I don't cry for movies,
And I don't cry for books. 
Not for family reunions. 
Not for seeing an old friend from long ago. 
Not for the news, however tragic or sad.
Not even for funerals. 
And certainly not for goodbyes.

When I say goodbye,
I'm just acknowledging that I won't see someone
For a while.
Maybe never.
And sometimes, we don’t know how long. 
But even as I bid farewell,
I feel no loss. 
No longing. 
No heartache.
And no pining. 
Because the thing about goodbyes
Is that the person is still there. 
In the moment of the goodbye,
The person is right in front of me. 
Not gone.
Not missing.
Not away. 
And I cannot comprehend
Right then and there
What it will be like when that person really is gone. 
We can imagine,
But we always unconsciously
Seem to soften it.
And the goodbye becomes just words. 

That's just how it works.
I live in the moment.
I take what life gives me,
And I go where life takes me. 
Sometimes it takes people away from me
And sometimes me from them.
But that's just life,
And there's nothing I can do
But move forward and onward. 
So when they go,
Or when I leave,
I say goodbye.
But it's always sort of hollow. 
Because when I say it,
We haven't yet parted. 
There is no feeling to add meaning
To the word.

And when they do go,
I don't start missing them right away. 
Because it's just like any other time they left. 
Long absences are often preceded by heartfelt goodbyes.
But why?
It's not like I can feel in that moment
How much more I will miss someone
In the added days and months and years
By simply quantifying
The hopeful calling aloud of names
That fade into an embarrassed remembrance of an absence,
And the dreams in which they're still here with us
That crumble into ashes when we wake,
And the pain that comes
Every time I think of something
That they would have liked--
By simply quantifying
That unquantifiable and unknowable
Future feeling of longing,
How can that give us any hope
To brace ourselves against it?

Only after those days and weeks and months and years have passed,
Only then can we adequately say goodbye. 
Only when we no longer remember a face,
Only when the sound of a voice fades beyond the horizon of memory.
Only then, does a goodbye have meaning.
But of course
By then it is too late.  

Then will I reminisce
And think fondly on old memories
And morn the distance that has come between us
And wondered what it might have been like
Had we been permitted to remain together. 
Then will I say goodbye.  

With you however
Everything is different. 
Even before I say goodbye,
I miss you.
I don't know why it is,
But I long to be with you
When we're together.
Even more so when we're apart. 
So when I say goodbye,
I am happy
Because there I am
Basking in your presence and your smile,
Listening to your laugh.
And at the very same time,
I feel sad
Because I can remember longing to be with you--
Even as I am with you
I long to be with you--
And I know
That I don't want to feel that emptiness
The next day.
Or the next.
Or the one after that.
Or forever after.

So my goodbye with you is something both sweet and bitter:
It is sweet because for the first time it is bitter;
For the first time there is meaning
Behind that word goodbye.
But it is bitter because it is the first goodbye which is sweet;
The first time I miss someone enough to miss you before you leave;
But the root of such bitterness is that I miss you and you must leave.

So goodbye.