I received an invitation for farewell drinks a couple of weeks back. What followed immediately after reading the invite was a hollowness that remained for the next hour. It's the feeling best described as free-falling with your heart lurching in your chest except that the adrenaline-fueled heart is not there but the lurching is amplified and your limbs feel curiously foreign. I later identified it as a (dramatic) physical manifestation of loss and momentary disorientation. That reaction caught this generally unsentimental person by surprise.
I remember having three emotional farewells in a span of five hours with three people I met under very different circumstances. Talk about not knowing one's limit. It was more than my heart could take. As the bus started up and pulled away from Marseille, I became that cliche staring out of the window with unfocused eyes welling up with unwilling tears while trying not to involve the unfortunate fella across the aisle in an awkward moment dance.
As much as practice makes perfect, I hope I don't get too many opportunities to do so.
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