If there is such a thing.

I don’t know. Is there “good news” in a goodbye? I’ve said so many of them in fifty years.

Funerals of family or friends or just folks I’ve known a bit, and it’s a hard thing, every time. Even if it’s dressed up and called a celebration of life, and even if we talk about hope and heaven and how they’re better off, its a hard thing, every time.

I’ve said goodbye to people I think I’ll likely never see again. To friends moving or to friends I’m moving away from. To those passing soon.

I’ve said goodbye to an unborn babe, to a child leaving home, to summer, to well-loved homes.

The thing is, I suppose, that every goodbye is really a crossroad. It means an end to traveling together. It means going separate ways, and that means repacking luggage, separating out what’s mine to take with me, and what is best left behind.

Sometimes that is freeing. Sometimes its burdening. Sometimes, honestly, it’s just confusing.

But it’s gonna happen. You can count on it.

And if there is any gospel to it, for me, it’s maybe this.

Goodbyes move me forward. Goodbyes can challenge and inspire me to rethink the well-trod path I am on. A goodbye forces change and takes me to a place I might not have otherwise gone.

Goodbyes, more than anything in my life, have helped me grow.