Saying goodbye with all the right words is for the movies. Heroes and heroines have these clever lines scripted for them, but in real life it seems like we say the important things without words. Small words might come out, but the important thing is the look, the feel, the eye contact, the smile. Not the words. Not much.
And when I watch movies, read novels, hear stories, the plot usually falls neatly between the boundary lines of scene and act. The best way to tell a story (or even a joke) is to think about the steps you're asking the audience to take. Think of the whole journey, then divvie it up into little bits. Act 1: exposition and rising action. Act 2: introduction of conflict, suspense accumulates. Act 3: Climax! Punchline! Exclamation Marks and Capital Letters! Act 4: resolution, falling action, the end.
Life lacks a script. It also lacks clear scenes and boundaries. The simple rise and fall of a story helps us to understand ourselves precisely because it is so simple. As complex as any story can be, the elements of a good one are usually easily grasped and powerfully felt. Not so in life. Our lives are messy, complex creations, each one an artist's opus with no clear sense of line and movement. Each one is a story that refuses to fall into clear stages. And so saying goodbye is made even more tricky! Even if we were given all the right words of farewell, we wouldn't know how to use them. We never know whether Betty will move to Argentina to die, or whether she will reappear in another Act. And who knows if we really will see Arnold on the next page, as he promised? They refuse to be predictable, not simply part of a performance.
So you see, I wish for many reasons that I were some famous character from some compelling myth, with a compelling script and sense of scene. It certainly would make moving easier. I could just worry about being picturesque, instead of worrying about sound relationships. But where would be the challenge? Where would be the allure of the unexpected? The rewards of making sure the ones I leave behind know their value to me? The rise-fall-dart-weave-rise again plot? Becoming some character would mean having some great farewell moments, of course. Maybe I could leave at the head of a parade in some great city, maybe looking up some great starwell at some dame standing in a great dress, maybe on a good horse with the wind in my face and trouble at my heels. But if great farewells come at the expense of living like a pilgrim, learning good lessons about being incarnational, and learning to love people every moment they're given to me, then no thanks.
Give me all the awkward and non-photogenic goodbyes, the ones with no words, only looks. I'll hit the road not knowing if I made a sound getaway or not, if it means leaving knowing that the people I love feel loved. That's really all I want.
Posted by nickles at January 4, 2005 12:28 AM