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Letting go of the things you love



See you, Brady-san!




I'd be lying if I said this year hasn't been full of tears.

Underneath the bold, black lettering reading '新幹線 Shinkansen', I wrapped my arms around Brady, giving him one final hug before he crossed the ticket gates with a suitcase in each hand. Mauli, Ella and I waved until he disappeared from view and waved a little more after that. The bittersweet memories of whole year of adventures, jokes, and endless laughter played through my head and weighed heavy on my heart for the rest of the day. I thought about the first time we met in Umeda school - how we shared our love for jazz and Chet Baker, and ate Bento in the back room at lunch. I thought about all those times sitting on the rooftop of Namba Parks, drinking a beer and talking about life, the bowling and arcade days, skiing together and weekending in Korea. It hurts to say goodbye to your best friend.

It's far from the first time I've felt this way over the past 6 months. It was under very similar circumstances on a cold February morning in Nagoya central station that myself, Patrick, and Vinny shared a last hug, tears flowing freshly with vows to see each other again soon, wishes of good luck for the future ahead. Just a few months later it was Patrick and Paige's turn themselves, an emotional end to two and a half years of us all living in Japan together.

What I'd heard from so many people certainly wasn't wrong - you'll have a lot of solemn goodbyes living in Japan, and especially when teaching English. A new person arrives, hearts open up and another international friend is made...just as an old friend departs, back to their home country to pursue the rest of their lives. Many of the tears I've shed this year, and much of the sentimental heaviness that I've carried in my heart has been spurred by the tough truth that I myself have to be one of those departees this summer, leaving not only people I love but also the country I love, the place that has been my adored home for 3 years. It seems funny to dwell on that thought when I haven't packed anything yet.

Have you ever wished a moment could last forever?

Perhaps after the most fun and exciting day on vacation, or when you're hanging out with a group of great friends and laughing, bantering. The thought crosses your mind, 'I never want this to end. This, right now. I want it to continue forever'. It's one of the most difficult truths to accept in our hearts that nothing can last forever, and that just as we're having the time of our lives, that moment will exist as only a memory soon enough. When we drank and sang our hearts out at Karaoke the night prior to Brady's goodbye, I couldn't help but smile, and wish that we could stay in that moment forever. A few weeks ago I sat in a park in my neighborhood, drinking a beer, listening to my favorite musician, Yamashita Tatsuro. With my head in my hands, I couldn't break the thought that I have to let all of this go in just a few months.

It's so easy to want the best times to last forever. But if they did, they'd have no significance at all. If I didn't have to say goodbye to my friends, there would be no joyful reunions down the line. And if I didn't leave this country, I wouldn't be able to cherish the memory of my time here in my heart. The thought came to me at some point this year - I've been here in Japan for the longest of essentially all of my friends. I've seen people's entire journeys begin, unfold, and come to an end right before my eyes. I've made lifelong friends a dozen times over. I've climbed Mt. Fuji, explored Hokkaido, hiked in the mountains of Nara, driven through Kyushu, and so much more. I can't look back and say I regretted it, or that I missed out on doing anything. I did all of that. That was me! I can't say that I wished I'd stayed longer, because I did stay longer. And maybe, after all of it, it's my time now.




How lucky we should consider ourselves to be able to cry like this. How grateful I am to have such best friends to cry over, a wonderful country where I spent the best 3 years of my life. Only the things you cherish the most can hurt this much to say 'Sayonara' to.


So to beloved friends and nation alike; Sayonara, it's been a pleasure.

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