Feeling: regretful
Listening to: Lady Jane Grey - Twilight
Reading/Watching: The Grieving Tree

I wish I were better at goodbyes.

I don't sob and clutch desperately at people; somehow the moments when they're still there are too important to ruin with tears. I just... don't know how to say it right. There are so many things I'd like to say, so many things I wish I'd done in the past to show how much I cared about this person, so many times I feel I might have taken him or her for granted in my life.

I hate goodbyes. I mean, no one loves them. But they actually disturb me, and I become desperate to see that person as much as possible, to try to make up for all the times I was too busy or too forgetful. I want them to remember me. And if they come back, I want them to look for me, instead of saying "well, if I bump into her, that's cool." Because they will pop into my head at odd moments, and suddenly I'll be telling the people around me a goofy little memory, complete with an impersonation of the absent party. And no one will get it but me, but I don't care.

I feel like I should have done more. I feel like I should have made more of an effort, to let him know how much mon coeur and I both appreciated him. But in his quiet, unobtrusive way, he prepared to leave without sounding any trumpets, and the time left slipped past quickly. Tonight we sat around in Applebee's, dead tired but unwilling to go home, having ridiculous conversations about whether Punky Brewster could win in a fistfight against Pippi Longstocking (ridiculous, because seriously, Pippi could so kick her ass), and I couldn't help thinking that he was going to go to Korea and from there to Germany with his wife and stepson and we might never see him again. It's not even much of a question; we probably won't see him again.

And I couldn't say how much I was going to miss him, because with all the times we forgot to call him and see how he was doing, it would sound like a lie. I couldn't say much of anything meaningful, because we were on the subject of Pippi vs. Punky and I didn't quite want to spoil the jovial mood.

But Steve, if you ever wind up reading this, I loved how level-headed you could be, I loved how you were so content to take the backseat and let the rest of us babble on around you, and I loved how you laughed at my jokes, even when they were the stupidest things imaginable. You were the steady one, the "baby" of the group, towering over us and breaking up squabbles, usually on the fringe because we took you for granted. And when the drama happened, you were unintentionally ousted from the pack, and I wish I had been better about keeping in your orbit, because you needed a friend, too, and I'm usually pretty good at that. You were, and still are, one of my air force boys. I'm also really, really glad that we didn't let you back out of being mon coeur's groomsman. You were always our friend, even when we forgot to show it.

Have a good flight, a good year, a good life. If you decide to come back to Texas someday, I promise we'll greet you with wide-open arms.

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