A Proper Goodbye

I’ve never been good at goodbyes.  Then again, nobody really is; it’s not a skill you’ll ever see on a resume or hear somebody brag about.  Rarely does a person walk away from somebody important to them and think “Yeah, I said everything I wanted to say.”  A proper goodbye, one that truly conveys your feelings and how important that person is to you, is something that takes a lot of emotional effort and articulate language that few of us can muster.   To me, though, a proper goodbye is just an impossible ideal; I’ll never be able to say a long lasting goodbye to a loved one without wishing I’d said more.  This post is my attempt, however imperfect, to relate all of the joy you all have brought me and to properly say goodbye to all of the wonderful people I have met this past Spring.

I’m not one to use superlatives or exaggerate stories or experiences.  You’ve probably never heard me say something like “That was the greatest night EVER!”, and if somebody asked me to name my favorite band, food, or movie, I couldn’t give a single straight answer because I know my preferences change with the time and my mood.  So when I say my experience in Vaxjo has been the greatest experience of my life, it is something I truly mean and a statement that holds great weight in my mind.

I remember flying into Copenhagen in  January as clear as if it were yesterday.  It was a cold, pitch black night and I was staring out the window trying to guess the names of the light clusters on the coast of Norway as we flew over.  For the duration of the trip, my mental state was on autopilot; I had relinquished control of my life to an unknown and all I could do was placidly allow the forces already in motion to take me to my new home.   I had no idea where I was going and knew nothing about where I would live or who I would meet.  The plane was fairly empty so there was nobody sitting beside me.  I had no working cell phone.  Physically and mentally, I was completely alone.

When I finally pulled up to a snow covered Vallgatan, I wasn’t quite sure what to do.  We (the other exchange students in the van and I) were dropped off in front of a building we had never seen before and told this was where we were living: “Here’s your new life! See ya!”  I walked up to my floor to find Astrid and several girls from last semester who were leaving that very day.  They gave me the warmest welcome a stranger could possibly receive, offering me breakfast, leftover food, and just doing everything to make me feel at home.  It worked.  I’ll never forget that initial meeting.  In the most northerly, coldest, and darkest place I’d ever been, I was warm and among friends already.

Such has been my experience in Vaxjo.  Never before have I met a group of people more open, welcoming, friendly, and unprejudiced.  While we all formed our own close knit social circles, nobody was interested in the exclusion or separation that I witness daily in the social environments of my home.  Despite being the most diverse group of people I’ve ever been a part of, the international community in Vaxjo was also the most homogenous (in terms of social fluidity). 

It’s hard not to become close with people when there are no barriers to separate you.  And while the drinking, partying, and socializing has been fun, the lessons you all have taught me will resonate the most.  You all have taught me so much about the world, about myself and, most importantly, reminded me of what is important in life.  You have redefined my life goals, made me less cynical and more selfless, and helped me to understand and accept the person that I am.  Mentally, emotionally, and physically, I am stronger than I was five months ago.

Yet all good things must come to an end.  I almost miss the unrelenting cold and the frozen lake.  In the cold, dark of winter, I wasn’t worried about the eventual departure looming ahead.  The dawn of spring meant beautiful weather, but, in my mind, it was also the beginning of the end.  As much as I wanted to ignore and forget it, I could not avoid the goodbyes that were coming.

Some of us, myself included, are afraid of saying the wrong thing and having our feelings misinterpreted so much that if we can’t find the right thing to say, we say nothing at all.  I’ve done my best to make all of my farewells as personal and meaningful as possible, but if I couldn’t for you, please don’t confuse my good intentions with cowardice.  More importantly, though, do not confuse my words as a polite yet hollow gesture.  If I wrote on your flag, it was not out of a sense of politeness or reciprocation: I meant every word.

Maybe we all mean what we write when we write it and I'm just assuming the worst in people.  But as time goes on, the wishes and promises made on our goodbyes will lose their weight.  We'll all resume our lives at home, get jobs, meet new people, and become occupied by other things; before long, our time in Vaxjo may be a distant memory.  Maybe you promised to visit all of your friends but now you're content with your life and a flight over an ocean is something you just can't afford.  Similarly, maybe you don't want every person you met to come visit you.  I myself promised several girls I met in Lappland that I would visit them in Kalmar, and I never did even though it was only two hours away.    I still feel guilty about it... Sorry Alexandra and Evgeniya :(

I'm saying all this because I don't want any of you to assume this of me.  I will never forget our time together and if I asked you to come visit me, the offer will remain no matter how much time has passed.  Wherever I am, you will always be welcome in my home.  Don't ever let the harshness of the world change who you from the friendly, open person you were in Sweden.  Go home and make your countries, and the world, a better place.  I love you all and thank you for the greatest time of my life.

Goodbye.