XVII. Saying Goodbye

There is a lot of asymmetry and apparent unfairness in life. But there are certain symmetries about which we can be certain. For each birth there will someday be a death. For each hello, however happy or sad, there will be a goodbye, however sad or happy. For every first step, first experience of the swim in the pool, first day in the office, first day of school (that's Christine with her parents on the day she left for college), there will be a last. If we are lucky and careful (but not too cautious!), these entrances and departures will be done with grace and aplomb. Whether it is a matter of simple luck, or perhaps something as complicated as karma, sometimes we are afforded the opportunity to say our goodbyes with the time needed to honor those relationships we cherish. So far, I have almost always had the opportunity that I felt I needed. The saddest final goodbyes are those reserved for those who have not lived long enough to have realized their full potential or those who depart with regret and remorse for not having lived a kinder or more meaningful life.

The last time I took this trip from Chennai to Kolkata it was by train (not airplane); my next birthday, which I would then celebrate in that great city with some very raucous acquaintances of mixed Indian and Russian descent, would be my 30th (not my 60th); and even the names, Madras and Calcutta, would roll off my tongue differently (and in a way about which I feel nostalgic) than these new names do.

As someone who likes to travel, I have always preferred being the one to leave to being the one left behind. Still, there is sadness in knowing that the things I have come to appreciate in my new “home” (and in some way, anything deserving of a real goodbye becomes home) will be greeted by the rising sun of a new day that I will not experience. When I left Karamoja after my last visit and before the coup that would remove Milton Obote from power, I assumed that I would never return. When I left Madras in 1980, I knew that I would return – and have done so in 1984, 1993, 1998, 2008 and 2009. Each time, however, it is a different place. Though they have the same names and some shared aspect of personal history, even the people are changed in some important way.

My stark assessment, and I say this with no bitterness at all – but more a sense of sad resignation, is that the world is worse off now for the many decades of our having lived here than it was before we started. The adults of today’s world have a lot of remedial work to do to make this planet a fit and sustainable place for the generations behind us. This must be done before we can say our last goodbyes with the kind of peace and satisfaction that comes from a life well lived. Most of the people I have come to know in my work and other aspects of my life know this, even we do not articulate that belief very often.