Hard To Say Goodbye

So, I have started this writing class, and for our first essay, we wrote about something we have gone through that was harder than we thought it would be. I decided to write about saying goodbye to Chris before leaving for my mission. It was only two pages, so instead of writing about my mission which would take up three times that amount, I went for the shorter story. It was still a bit hard to chisel down into two pages, but I did it.

This is the finished product... you don't have to read it if you don't want to. But, if you do, I'd like your opinion. Your HONEST opinion. I have finally found something I enjoy doing, and I want to know if I'm any good at it. If not, tell me... but please try not to be too harsh! :)


Hard to Say goodbye
I thought I knew I loved Chris, but up until this moment, I never realized quite how much. It never really occurred to me that I would have to leave him behind. It had come so quickly and before I knew it, it was time to face my fear and say goodbye.

My mission call to Fresno, California had come two and a half months previously, in November of 2004. It was all very exciting, and Chris, my boyfriend at the time, was 100% supportive and happy for me. He also had served a mission and loved every minute of it, and we were both very much looking forward to mine. Our relationship was wonderful. He was my best friend, and I was his. We started dating in July of 2004, and almost instantly became very close. We had been dating for about three months at the time when I decided to serve a mission, and it came as a bit of a shock to both of us. I hadn’t planned on serving a mission. The fact that I would have to leave my home and familiar surroundings for an entire 18 months was not appealing to me. What didn’t come as a shock was that Chris continued to support me and help me prepare to go.

By January 25th 2005, I was ready. I had spoken in sacrament meeting, had my bags packed, everything was set and ready to go – but there was one thing still to be done. It was something I had dreaded facing since the day I received my mission call, and I really never looked at the reality of it since then. I needed to actually say goodbye to Chris. We of course both knew that I needed to go, so if it were at all possible, that made it a bit easier. But here we were, trying to enjoy the evening together, the last we would have in 18 months. The pain of what the end of it would bring was so overwhelming, I all but forced back the tears from my eyes until it was pointless to try and hold them back.

Things were different that night; we weren’t alone. We needed to be chaperoned – we couldn’t hold hands, and we weren’t supposed to hug. And the entire night, the question weighed on my mind, “Should I shake his hand or hug him when I say goodbye?”

We spent some time at his house later that evening, and I was grateful for the comic relief from our families as we awkwardly tried to keep composure. Knowing we could no longer be alone together wasn’t easy, and they knew it. They could see the strength behind our efforts to stop the moisture from starting in our eyes.

I remember what happened next all so clear. My parents and cousin walked with Chris and I outside. Before reaching the car, I turned to look at Chris, who was dreading this just as much I was. There was so much to say, yet nothing seemed to come. All I could think of was, “Be good.” It was phrase that we often said when goodbye was involved; it somehow had deeper meaning this time. With tears streaming down my face, I extended my hand out to him. He looked at my outstretched hand and jerked me forward, pulling me into his warm chest. We held each other for just a moment, my “chaperones” standing close by, observing our every move, and I think, feeling some of the emotion behind our farewell.

We cried in each other’s arms for what seemed to be a few seconds, wanting to stay there forever. With a quick “I love you” from each of us, he loosened his tight grip around me and we walked to the car. As we drove away, I watched him move hurriedly into his house, holding back the tears that would come so quickly as he later relayed to me what sounded like a long, uneventful night of heartache and tears.

I cannot explain the emotion I felt in that car at that time. Other than the sound of my gasping for air amongst the sobbing, we drove in silence. Choking back the tears, I was happy to be in my mother’s arms as she tried to comfort me during quite possibly one of the most challenging nights of my life. I never realized how much I loved him until I had to say goodbye. It was a moment I will never forget.