The Ache of Goodbye
by J. Michael Blackston, M.A.
My 2-year-old daughter, Hannah, already has two boyfriends (cute now, not so cute in about 10 years)! When she sees them, she lights up. A morning full of meltdowns with mommy instantly changes to a glorious day of smiles and laughs in their presence. Bryce and Xander are their names, and in the first two years of their lives they have seen each other multiple times a week. When it’s been a few days without a play date, you’re bound to hear Hannah say something like “I want Bryce.”
Over the past month, and in particular over the last week, Rachel and I have found ourselves talking frequently about Bryce and Xander, but our conversations have been filled with heartache. You see, Bryce and Xander are both moving this summer to different parts of the country. Although we have known it’s been coming for quite some time, we’ve avoided thinking about it. The thought of Hannah not having her buddies around makes us so sad. Rachel and the moms have gotten so close to one another, sharing honestly about the joys and triumphs, as well as the agony and frustrations of motherhood. These women have been such a gift to Rachel.
But they’re leaving. In my attempts to make it better, to “fix it” if you will, I’ll say things to Rachel like, “We’ll still go and visit them,” or Rachel might say, “Hannah will bond with her other friends.” Both of which are true, but both are also attempts to avoid the agony of goodbye. The other night we were lying in bed, and Rachel said something so simple yet so profound. “We just need to name it as it is—a painstaking loss, a loss for us, for Hannah, for them.” It’s so true. No matter how we try to spin it, these relationships that have brought such joy and fullness will forever be changed.
I hate goodbyes. I always have. For years I wondered why, and then one of my seminary professors Chuck DeGroat put words to it: “We weren’t meant for goodbyes.” That statement resonates with me. Our hearts weren’t meant for separation. This is the essence of sin—separation from God, from others, from ourselves. We were made for union with God and one another. That’s why divorce or death or 2-year-olds saying goodbye at the park on their last play date hurts our hearts. It’s not the way it was meant to be.
We’re sad to announce that Redeemer Counseling is also saying goodbye to two of our therapists, Kim Trouten and Becky Valentine. Kim, who is actually Xander’s mom, gave birth to her second child, Zack, this month. She will be moving north with her husband who is pursuing a call to pastoral ministry within a church. They are looking forward to introducing their boys to the four seasons which they have missed while living in Orlando.
Becky is packing her bags next week and heading across country to Wenatchee, Washington. She is a mountain girl, and her heart has longed to be back on the west coast where she grew up. She will be joining a team of Christian counselors to continue providing soul care to individuals and couples.
While we are so excited for the new adventures God has for Kim and Becky, we will miss them dearly, both professionally and personally. They are good woman, who love God and care for others well. I am tempted to talk about the new therapists that will be joining us this summer (and they’re great, but more on that at a later time). Instead, I’ll take my wife’s advice and sit in the loss of these very fine therapists and two wild and adorable boys. By doing so, my heart hurts, but I also find my heart more expanded and grateful to the One who is the giver of every good gift.
