Goodbyes

Herself speaks.

While I was away recently, I had an opportunity to see my sister and her family for a few hours. It was lovely. And so bittersweet.

My sister is a truly wonderful person. I am reminded of a passage from the beginning of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, when Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour get married: Fleur's radiance shines upon everyone around her, and they are also made radiant because of her. My sister is like this: she shines on everything and everyone around her. It is hard not to feel completely insignificant in her company -- not because she makes me feel inconsequential (to the contrary, she is ever so warm and delightful), but because I cannot help but feel that I pale in comparison.

Sometimes I forget how lovely it is to be with her because I see her so rarely. We talk on the phone sometimes, and text often, but in-person visits are rare due to geographic constraints. And when I do finally visit with her, when we part it is hard not to be overwhelmed by the sense of loss.

She is one of the few people whose presence is a comfort to me. And I realize with every goodbye how much I have enjoyed that comfort, and I am bereft that I have it so rarely.

This is the way it is, though: the people I love most are often physically -- or metaphorically -- distant, due to time or distance or all-consuming employment or other natural, unavoidable reasons. I do the best I can to be in the Moment when I am with them, because I do not know when I will have such time and comfort again.

My heart.
Goodbyes are hard.

Perhaps that is why Goodbye to You (by Ben Harper) speaks to me so clearly.

Maybe tomorrow I can start anew. 
I just don't know how to say goodbye to you.