On Leaving Without Saying Goodbye
Even if you never thought about it, these words might help you imagine how it feels—for someone left behind when you're no longer in the picture, and the goodbye never came. They might also help the parts inside you know you're still alive.
People come and go. That's the way life goes. But it's not the way of my heart.
Every time it happens it opens an old wound—a hole in my heart that wonders why.
I wonder what I did—or what I didn't do that was the cause. I imagine what I could have said—and what I can say now.
Instead of going down the hole, I talk to the child inside, who felt it first.
I see them in a corner of the room alone in the darkness. That's where they like to go when things get rough—it's safe—at least they thought so.
Leaning in, I gently say, “You’re no longer in the past, little one. No one can hurt you anymore. I’m here now.
I feel a flutter in my heart—a reminder of freedom and life, not the fear of dying that had been present for many years.
And I reply, “Yes, I hear you. You live inside of me now. I am the adult you became. And, I‘m listening—I care.“
I feel the warmth in my heart, and it starts to spread throughout my body.
Letting it linger—trusting what will come next—I decide to take a break and open my email.
I see a message from a dear friend who lives afar—someone I haven’t heard from in a while—a message I need to see now. They tell me they've been laid up, too, but have been reading my blog.
They share in their familiar way, allowing me to hold their heart—to remember how much they have meant to me—and me to them.
As my face lights up with a smile, I say, "You see, if someone doesn't like something about you, that's their choice...
That doesn't mean you did anything wrong and you're unlovable. It's just that they can’t find the light inside themselves—the one they need first.
I used to shut the door and try to hide from the pain. But now I hold the hope in my heart that eventually they’ll be able to see theirs again as they feel mine.
Now I'm in love—feeling the love within—and am getting closer to sending this to the world. But maybe, I'll wait a bit—taking my wife's sage advice: others have a life, too.
Waking up from this Blissville reprieve, the road where I live now—I see the little one on his bike, waving goodbye.
No—wait, I was wrong. He’s a man—all grown up—and much more.
Maybe, he’s me—riding through the memories of my past near the Peace Bridge in my birth place of Buffalo, New York.
Into the big new world of Canada we would go—proud to say I was a US citizen—never worrying about whether my parents were—or my grandparents.
It was so much fun—playing freely, with abandon—finding my courage with my older brother and friends on the big rides at Crystal Beach Amusement Park.
We would wash down our hot dogs, slathered in spicy mustard, with sweet loganberry juice—a taste I’ve never found again.
I‘m back home now, still continuing on my journey—awaiting the next bridge to cross and another new beginning.
Please know that I’ll be holding all of you in heart if I have to leave before saying goodbye.
Comments or questions? Email me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold, or long to be held by, in the light of invisibility.
Dr. Cecil is a licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. He specializes in treating complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma, bringing therapy to life through heartfelt stories and images of connection and healing that emerge from the light of invisibility.