Aubrie Edmond, Contributing Writer

Goodbye: no matter how many times you say it, it never gets easier. I remember a lot of my first goodbyes. I can still see my various childhood homes shrinking in the rear window from the backseat of a packed car. I remember all the last days of school and the HAGS in yearbooks from people whose names I can no longer recall, friends forever changing and moving and fading away. Now that I’m older, saying goodbye feels heavier, more real. Some things don’t last forever, all the see you at Thanksgiving as friends set off for college, the room that stays exactly how you left it, the city getting smaller as the plane takes off. Those are the easiest goodbyes, a simple “see you soon” instead of a “goodbye forever.” When you’re young, that’s pretty much the only goodbye you’re used to, if you’re lucky. As you grow up everyone grows up with you, grandparents get older and uncles get sick, the dog you had since you were eight is gone in the blink of an eye. You have to face the facts, some things last forever. It’s hard to wrap your head around, I’m not sure anyone really can. Forever isn’t really a concept that people can grasp, the idea that something can cease to exist and live only in your memory, the fact that there are some people and places you will never see again. It’s daunting; no one really knows what comes next. I like to think of it this way: the first law of thermodynamics states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. To me, that’s the closest explanation for forever. Our energy and the energies of the people we loved being recycled and transformed, never dying, never ceasing to exist. When I think of it this way, every “goodbye” seems like a “see you soon;” maybe we really can live forever.