If you’re not used to reading them already, then get used to it. I say a lot of goodbyes and I blog about them. Even though you’re not in front of my face and you can’t be here to hug me or stick out your shoulder for me to cry on, blogging about it makes me feel ten times better. Even if you don’t comment, I know that someone out there is reading it. And sometimes it’s just good to know—whether you’re anonymous or obvious—that someone knows (or at least has an idea of) what I’m going through.
I said goodbye to Ana today. She is flying back to Mexico before she starts college. In a month Ana will come back to start her university experience in a different city. We will only be living about an hour away from each other, but still, this goodbye struck the deepest part of my heart and made me bleed from the inside out. (…?)
“I was here for a month and a half,” Ana said as we sat against the garage in the driveway, “And it felt like just yesterday we were eating mints at Chik Fil A, trying to summarize our senior years. And now I’m leaving again. And this time, when I come back, we won’t be together.”
It’s true. When she comes back, we won’t be able to sit in each other’s closets and shove candy down our throats after school. Or walk up the street to teach Ana how to ride a bike on training wheels. Or have a weekend-slumber-study-party but really stay up all night talking about politics. Or get Ana to chase me around the house because I stole her phone and won’t let her text her boyfriend til’ her homework’s done. We’ll be off doing… college… things…
Our time was running up, but there was still so much to say. We sped through stories that we’d been waiting to tell each other all week. Finally it was time.
“You have to wake up early tomorrow,” I said. We stood up and hugged each other. “Call me when you get home, okay?”
“I will.” We hugged again.
I only made it around the corner until I started crying. My whole body was shaking and gobs of tears were filling up my eyes. I pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park. For the next ten minutes I hugged my knees, put down my head, and bawled.
If only you knew how much you mean to me.
Thank you for sitting on the porch and letting me talk about myself for hours. I watched your expression when I told you everything and there was not one glimpse of judging in your face. You only looked at me with love in your eyes.
Even though many of us are embarrassed to share our testimonies and talk about religious things outside of the typical young women’s or Sunday school setting, thank you for being the one to tell me what you knew to be true. I needed to know that I wasn’t alone in my thinking and that I wasn’t crazy for believing.
I love it that you know me inside and out and that you can pick out my emotions so easily. And (here comes the cheese!) thank you for believing in me at a time when all I could see in my life was darkness.
Even though you have been hurt over and over again while living in this country, and that people—even good friends—have said horrible things to your face about your culture and people, know that you are no less than any of them. You are a daughter of God and the most beautiful person I have ever met. You have been the answer to many people’s prayers.
I love you.