THE GOODBYE

    In the final few weeks before I was due to depart for Spokane I felt like a terminally ill patient, or a prisoner on death row. My fate was sealed, and it was inescapable. The gods had cast their die and I had no choice but to bend myself to their will. Leaving all my friends and family behind to drive west, alone, into the unknown. The shear weight of that burden left me feeling depressed and heartbroken. I was a dead man walking, and I’ve never felt so helpless.

    But, rather than wallow in my misery, sitting home alone on my inflatable mattress in the middle of my nearly empty apartment, I decided to go out and do ALL the things. Instead of merely having a last meal, I would have a last banquet.

    My last moonlight run up Cadillac Mountain, so good that I made it a double. My last visit to the treehouse, before we closed on the main house. My last run at Newbury Neck, with obligatory mid-winter ocean plunge. My last sledding day at Woodlawn. My last run up my favorite summit trail (South Caddy Ridge) with my favorite girl. My last dance party tonight at now. My last Leonard Lake loop. My last breakfast at Martha’s with the first Ellsworth friend I ever made. And my last Tuesday Night Beer Run with my best peeps and pizza.

    At that final event, my running friends even made me a cake and sang me a song. Which, of course, made me break down and cry like a baby. I had been living in Ellsworth for less than 5 years but in that short span I made some friendships that would last a lifetime. I hadn't even said goodbye yet, and I was already missing them. I was being given a quick and painful lesson in learning how to let go. And what I learned was that I really sucked at it.

    Of course, the hardest thing that I had to let go of, by far, was my new-found life with Jenn. In the weeks leading up to my departure we spent every moment we could together. Sometimes I would drive to her house in the dark just to steal a couple of hours with her. Holding hands and walking through the cold and starry night. Or taking her girls contra dancing. Something I was absolutely horrible at, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to make those precious moments count.

    I was an emotional mess in those final days. I felt every single feeling imaginable. I was scared to head out into the unchartered waters of the west. I was sad to leave a great life behind in my wake. I was frustrated because it seemed I had no real say in the matter. Like a slave, in chains, locked in the belly of a ship. And I was guilt ridden for turning my back on a wonderful woman and sailing 3000 miles away.

    It all seemed so unbelievably unfair. It took our whole lives to finally find each other and, now that we had, it was time for me to go. Time to climb into a car filled with my memories, my dog, and the rest of my stuff and drive across the country. Time to leave behind my friends, my family, my job, my apartment, and the woman that I so dearly loved. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this. I was not ready. I would never be ready. But, still, I had to go. Alone.

And then, something amazing happened...