The final Goodbye

I have been habituated to goodbyes since a tender age but never got accustomed to it. It started from Kathmandu Domestic Airport at the Departure section. Uncontrolled tears would roll down when I said goodbye to my parents and made my way through security in my crisp white shirt, pressed pleated blue skirt and black buckle shoes. By the time I was cleared from security, my shirt would be damped with tears and my pressed skirt would be wrinkled on the sides in a desperate attempt to hold back tears. I would look from the airplane window at my parents till they were the same size as my little dolls. I would cry until my eyes were swollen and would only stop after the airplane taxied on Biratnagar soil. This ritual happened thrice a year and continued for 10 years when I went to school.

Once a passenger who was a painter felt sorry for me. He tried to distract me and showed his recent work themed Himalayas. I cried right into his paintings and his Himalayas were randomly blotted with tears. One would think that I would overcome tearful goodbyes as I mature, that never happened. No matter what the destination- vacation, college or business; tears would be on the alert to do their drill once I entered the airport premises.

Yes, final goodbyes are the truth of life. It is only but realistic. I have said my final goodbyes many times. I have said it to the man who raised me as his body flamed and turned to ashes, and only hoping to see that kind face one more time. I have said it to the man I love as his maroon car disappeared and I stared at the tail light, and only hoping to hold him one more time.

At every final goodbye, I am transformed to that little girl in the crisp white shirt, pressed blue skirt and black buckle shoes who has damped her shirt and desperately clutches her skirt in an attempt to hold back tears whilst she gazes for one last look of her loved one.

She never got accustomed to final goodbyes. She never will.

…

EC