There’s Nothing Sweet About the Sorrow of Parting

Juliet said to Romeo, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
Little did she know at the time what a great tragedy was in store for them both.

That phrase is still used today to convey hope that there will be a future return.
Those parted will one day find their paths converging in a joyful reunion.
Such is the hope, anyway.

I am finding no sweetness in the partings that lie before me.
I will be officially retiring from active employment at the end of March.
However, with cancer surgery looming large on the near horizon and at least a month of recovery time, I will be leaving my current workplace at the end of next week.

Five more workdays.
Two of those will be taken by tests for the upcoming surgery.
So, three days.

Three days to pack in almost 30 years of shared experience.

Yeah, it’s true that there are some that I work with who I will be glad to show my heels.
Not everyone gets along in any family. Right?

There are those who you know on sight, but need to check their shirt in order to remember their name.
“Hey! How ya doin’ uh, Mark?”
These are good folks, but nothing more than fellow grunts in the trenches.

The others, though.
The ones that you have laughed with over the years.
You shared in the joys of marriages and the birth of children.
They’re the ones that you would gladly take dinner to when they have need.
Friends with whom you shared their most deep and painful loss.
How do you say goodbye to these?
People who each own a piece of your heart?

I suppose that there are people who can go through their entire career and not forge bonds like these. For them, when it’s time to move on to the next phase of life they simply wave and they’re gone.

I’m not like that.
These are folks that I have spent the better share of 30 years with.
Folks that I have spent more waking hours with than my own family.
People who I love and care about deeply.

Sure, my company has graciously agreed to let me work from home for the few weeks between surgery and retirement. I am more than grateful to them for this.
So, in a way, these who are beloved will still be present with me.
But, what about their faces?
The laughter shared over a joke. Or, the eyes that suddenly open and shine with sudden understanding at the solution to a problem.
These things will be missing.
Then, when April showers come along, I will be gone.

Yeah, I know. There are ways to stay in touch. I can always go back for a visit.
Maybe, I’m just being overly emotional about this.

Sorry. I can’t help that right now.
I’m emotionally invested in these people.
Heartstrings are being pulled and stretched to the breaking point.

I hope that I can adequately thank these, my dearest friends and comrades, over the next few days.
I’m not sure that such gratitude can be expressed.
But, I’ll try.

I love you, guys.