Parting, the Sweet Sorrow
Why I never say goodbye…
I hate endings.
Sometimes I stop reading a book when I get to the final chapter. Just don’t want to say goodbye to the character’s I have fallen in love with.
I love “overtime” in team sports because it means it’s not over yet. Even better when it’s a high stakes game like World-Cup Soccer, the Olympics, Superbowl, Stanley Cup, and World Series. After being very excited that I had my first tickets to the Grey Cup (Canadian equivalent of SuperBowl), I was thrilled that it went into DOUBLE overtime AND my team won!
I hate goodbyes. When I was a teenager, I was a Waterfront & Sports Director at an overnight Kids Camp in Southern Ontario. Each Sunday a new troupe of kids marched in. Over the week, I loved seeing their friendships form, enjoyed the energy they brought to the place, forged mentorships with even the toughest kids only to say a sad “goodbye” again next Sunday. No wonder I became a High School teacher.
I hate Graduation day each June. It’s one of the busiest days as we, the educational staff, gear up to make the ceremony as meaningful as possible for the students we tutored for four years. Ushering them into adulthood, with their parents and friends, is an immense responsibility. As a Department Head, I was privileged to shake their hands and present the diploma to so many beautiful souls. When the ceremony was over, I always sneaked out the backdoor, with the excuse that I was packing up my sound & lighting equipment, never attending the reception party, never saying goodbye. I justified it by telling myself, once they are in my heart, they are there forever. I don’t need to say goodbye. In most cases I was correct. My grads and I have done a really good job staying in touch. I celebrate the births of their babies and have attended many weddings.
One of my most influential teachers also shares this parting-paralysis. Norah Morgan taught me how to be a Drama Teacher. This woman who had written several books, influenced Education systems in Britain, Australia, U.S.A. and Canada was such a strong, positive influence on my professional career. When I started, she would call me on the first day of teaching each September to see if I needed anything. Living about a country mile from the University, she often invited me over to have dinner and a swim with her and husband Ted. I loved listening to the timbre of their voices. Norah’s reminded me of Fairytales told to me via a record-player when I was a child. I could read along in my book. The magical voice would tell me it was time to turn the page, “When Tinkerbell rings her little voice, like this…” Ted’s voice, in contrast, was a jolly Welsh accent that mumbled around like what I figured an Aristocrat sounded like. Much of the time I did not understand a word he was uttering but the sound made me smile every time. Ted’s stories matched the intrigue of hers; throughout his life he was a theological student, a solicitor of the high court of justice, a Squadron leader in the R.A.F., and a farmer. Always evolving, he taught English at a private school, and at Niagara College. We had many discussions about education, the role of theatre, art, and life and also tennis, cricket, hockey and soccer while sharing the homemade bread they prepared. They even hand-milled their own flour.
I was in awe watching these two seniors play tennis together on their private court at their warm haven called, “The Millstone”; their 61 year marriage was seeded on a tennis court back home.
When my first visit with them had come to a close, she walked to her laneway to escort me to my car. I expected a goodbye or a hug but instead in her English dialect she muttered, “Well, then!”, pivoted and walked away. I was left standing there wondering if she had returned to the house to retrieve something. After a sufficient amount of time, I figured she was not returning so I drove away.
This behaviour continued for quite some time. Finally, awkwardly and with hopes not to offend, I asked her why she never says goodbye. With her gorgeous story-telling voice, she took me on a flashback to Wartime England, when she married Ted. It was their honeymoon and they were going out for dinner. From a restaurant row, they selected a cute Bistro. Before entering, Norah stopped to read the posted menu outside it’s door. She experienced an unusual feeling and told Ted she would rather eat somewhere else. Ted obliged, as many new husbands do, and they dined at a different establishment down the way.
That evening, the first restaurant was bombed.
This awakened the series of unexpected goodbyes that World War II handed to Norah. After that, Norah vowed she would never say goodbye again.
So, why then, would someone who hates endings, start a blog called, “Plan B is Better”? I don’t profess to like endings any better than I used to but, upon reflection I have come to see that all my endings, even my goodbyes for good, have been the gateway to a new way of living, to new ways of seeing and ultimately to new ways of knowing. I chose to accept, not like, endings and I commit to ensuring I am open to the opportunities afforded by them, practising gratitude for the new adventure and vantage point.
Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave (The Merchant of Venice, Shakespeare).
Addendum
Norah and I said goodbye for good on her terms.
I dedicated my Master’s Thesis to her over a decade after I graduated from Teachers College. My thesis Advisor, Dr. Barrie Bennett, read the dedication and replied, “Don’t you know? Norah is dead”. Knives in my heart. Then, I realized, she had done it again.
“Well, then!” and she walked away.
Norah Morgan, Professor at Brock University, was honoured by the American Alliance for Theatre and Education with the Campton Bell Lifetime Achievement Award for her contributions to teaching and learning from Kindergarten students to University. Among her many awards and tributes, a Brock University scholarship is available in her name. As well, a Memorial Award established by Carousel Players is awarded to Elementary School Arts Teachers in the Niagara area schools.
She passed away November 11, 2004.
Ted passed away April 14, 2007.
*Title: “Parting, the Sweet Sorrow” is reference to Shakespeare’s, “Parting is such sweet sorrow” from Romeo and Juliet, Act II, scii.
