"I wish there was a way to know you were in the good old days before you've actually left them."- Andy from The Office
I watched the last episode (ever!) of The Office last night, and I found myself in tears. I hate goodbyes – any kind – whether it’s goodbye to a place, a person or a goofy, awkward sitcom. Me and goodbyes just have never meshed.
It’s not like I have even kept up with the show this season. But I do remember all of the many episodes I've watched over the years that have made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe. It's one of my faves. And something about it all being over struck a nerve. It was the same thing when the Cosby Show or Seinfield or Friends ended. It wasn’t just the shows. It was how they somehow followed me through periods of life. It was saying goodbye to characters you knew. It was waving one last time at memories of snuggling on the couch on a certain day of the week at a certain time, of friends gathering together every Thursday night at someone’s apartment for “Must See TV,” of traditions and rituals and things you could count on.
It got me thinking about the other, bigger goodbyes in life that are five million times harder. As Lisa emails us from India, my mind is transported to the time when I was there and fell in love with the people, the places, the feelings. I remember gut wrenching goodbyes through eyes blurred by a million tears. I remember standing in a hot, crowded airport and clinging to my relatives and never wanting to let them go. I remember coming back home and wondering if going back was worth it, knowing I’d have to endure the hard feelings of leaving again.
Then, there were the goodbyes of growing up, of moving to a different neighborhood and changing schools. There were the goodbyes of graduating high school, of sitting with your friends the night before they left for colleges in other states. There was that lump in your throat knowing that it wouldn’t be goodbye forever, it wouldn’t be goodbye to your friendships, but it was goodbye to you and them being who you were then in those days.
I’ve only been to a few funerals in my life - but those that I’ve attended where we’ve celebrated long, happy lives - I’ve been struck by this feeling. Every person you’ve loved and who has loved you gathers at your funeral to say GOODBYE - to remember your life and how you’ve affected theirs. Your impact on the world is revealed and celebrated. Because really, this world is the people in it - and when you show them love, help them, make them laugh or become a part of their everyday lives – you are changing the world. What if we didn’t wait until we say goodbye to highlight a person’s life or celebrate their value? What if we didn't wait until they weren't here to tell them just how great they are and just how sad we'd be if they were gone? What if we didn’t wait until after they were gone to bring everyone they loved together in a room to laugh, cry, hug and love?
I feel like a recurring word in my heart these past few years is NOW. Because so much of my inclination is to look back or look forward. I remember with nostalgia the “good old days” or I think ahead to when we’ll be in a different place doing different things. But I want to be intentional in reminding myself that NOW - today - is when I am making the memories that will fill my heart years later. I don't only want to remember these days, I want to remember how I let the goodness (goodness that is always present even when it's not ALL good) to seep into my skin and infiltrate my heart. I want to remember that I really lived and appreciated all there was to live and appreciate.
Andy was right. These are the good old days, even before we leave them.
And goodbyes have their place. Because to care about something so much that it hurts to be without it can be a gift. And closing the door on one season or time in your life can open you up to new people, places and moments that are all parts of God’s careful and caring intentions for you.
Yes, I got all of this from an episode of the Office. What can I say? Sometimes Thursday night TV can be life changing. And since I never thought I’d ever be quoting Andy Bernard in this blog, I may as well close with lyrics from a one-hit wonder by Semisonic:
“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end”
I'll remember this next Thursday when I'm missing Jim and Pam.
