Saying Goodbyes

Monday night after Liz left, I sat alone for a couple hours.  It was weird, going from a house full of people tangling underfoot like puppies to SOLITUDE.  Jess had gotten a kitten, however, so I spent the time getting her to fall in love with me.

When Jess came home, we stood around in the kitchen.  It was weird, because although we have always been friendly, this felt like--we were trying to step things up a notch?  Or I was.  I know my relationship with her will never be like my relationship with Liz, but I guess I want a roommate with whom I can share my daily life adventures.

She said her friend had asked about me, how it was probably really hard having my best friend move out.  Jess said she'd answered, "Yeah, I think so.  I mean, it must be, but she hasn't really shown anything."

And I don't.  Neither does Liz.  We have broken a couple times.  Liz strode into my room, shouted, "I'M GOING TO MISS YOU," and then ran back to her room.  One time when Liz was complaining about the practicalities of moving, and I was consoling her, I stopped and said, "No.  I don't want to make this easier for you!  I don't want you to go!"

So we've admitted how little we like the situation.  But we haven't dwelt on it, or had long heartfelt conversations, or, I dunno sulked in public.  And I think it's because we're both people who are used to leaving and being left.  That's my deal, right?  That's the thing I'm proud of myself for, one of the things I can so obviously see God preparing in me, way back in grade school when I was never placed in the same class as my friends.  I adapt.  And Liz is the same.  She moves all the time, and she makes new friends, and that's just how life is.

I don't know if that makes it better or worse?  Better, I think, if a little cold.  But even though I wish we could live together forever, I never thought that was a possibility.  Also, I've gotten used to breaking relationships, or changing them, or putting them in a different category.  It seriously does help when you think on a more eternal scale.  The friends I had, have, will have--they are all huge parts of my life, threads that weave into my life story as I weave into theirs, and I'm so grateful for all those things.  It's always devastating when their thread leaves my pattern, but the design they left is still beautiful and worthy.

And the hope, I guess, of eternity is that our threads and patterns and tapestries will be carried into eternity, where stories will be fleshed out and understood, where relationships will be made solid where once they were fleeting.