Saying goodbye for now
Wednesday, 3 December
There were a lot of goodbyes over the last two weeks. I’ve said goodbye to my friends, my job and colleagues, my flatmates, landlord and my family. And whilst I know I’ll be back in the UK soon it’s been a tough couple of weeks, each set of goodbyes felt like a mini sucker punch to the stomach.
At times, it felt a little self-indulgent, but I really felt the love from my pals during a goodbye meal at Sugo82 in Netil Market, Hackney (pictured). A suitably intimate set-up where we were served homemade Italian food and tried to drink limoncello shots with no hands (see video).
A few days prior to this, I had some goodbye leaving drinks with my colleagues, some of whom I’d known for over five years. I felt very special when our nominated social sec (spot the guy in the hat) told me that he had reserved a private area in All Bar One - a cornerstone establishment of British after work drinking. Christmas tunes blaring on a Thursday evening at 5 pm and 2-for-1 cocktails until 8pm, what’s not to like? It felt like a suitable homage to all of the trashy after work drinks venues we’d frequented in the city.
However, despite being able to see as many of my close friends, family and colleagues as possible, there was still an overwhelming sense of denial that I was even going on this trip. Specifically, the fact that I’m flying to the other side of the world and not knowing exactly when I’ll be back or see everyone again.
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I’ve always found the idea of processing (or not processing) emotions interesting, and how people process them differently. For me, unless I literally write something on my forehead and look in the mirror every day, these sorts of big life moments don’t hit me until the last minute and with that often comes a big tidal wave of emotion
For me that moment arrived, oddly enough, when I was walking towards my gate in London Heathrow Airport and I looked up at a picture of an RAF man on the grimy walls of a connecting tunnel. He seemed to be waving goodbye at me and me alone. This is what really brought it on. There was something definitive, almost smug, in the way he was waving at me.
Suddenly, the months of thinking about my trip, or trying not to think about it, boiled down to a few steps as I handed over my passport and boarding pass. And before I knew it, I was twiddling my thumbs waiting for my boarding call.
