They came—finally—on the approach to the Bay Bridge. The saline evidence of a soul deep sadness that I have suppressed and longed for all week. This has been a week of goodbyes. A week of goodbyes, following another week of goodbyes on the East Coast.
As my colleague and compadre of 12 years bade me an emotional goodbye on Friday, I felt my tears well up and then, mysteriously, they were squelched. I felt robbed. This week has been filled with replayings of that vignette; with a friend I’ve known almost as long as I’ve lived in California, to those who’s child I’ve seen birthed. Each time the tragedy of having to move away from these relationships that we have nurtured in order to pursue a life long dream, filled me to bursting. And yet, tears eluded me.
But then, as if the rain thick fog of San Francisco was the cue my spirit had been waiting for, the floodgates opened and I was awash. Awash and alive; with the relief of weeks of unexperienced emotions, came a moment of connectedness. In that moment I connected with myself in a way that has been lost since adolescence. I connected with the friends who have impacted, guided, and supported me through this adventure. In an inexplicable way, I also connected with the adventure we are about to embark on.
The cruising life is transience embodied. There will be many goodbyes ahead. With any luck I will get better at this as the miles flow under our keel. With any luck I will learn to embrace the full spectrum of my emotional palette, to laugh and dance and sing and cry with my heart fully exposed. If you run into me out there and catch me doing anything less, please remind me of this post.