The Right To Cry When Saying Goodbye

Such waves of emotions (in alphabetical order - fear of staying in America much longer, emuna, excitement, grief, panic, pride in my people and in my ancient/new country, especially this week and stress) are roiling within these days that it's no wonder I'm not sleeping too well.  Thanks to my deeply insightful, spiritual role-model friend Leah, I see that I am being given yissurim (suffering, trials) in advance of our aliyah in order to earn my future life in Israel.

It is not easy to disengage from a whole life lived elsewhere. Will it be worth it? No question. But that doesn't make it easy.

A friend in Israel who must have made aliyah when she was very young, recently said to me, "I never realized, it just never hit me, how much unraveling a person has to do when they make Aliya. In my immature and idealistic view, you just make the decision and come."

Ha!  Would that that were so.  My to-do list seems to get longer each day.  The days pass so swiftly that I am caught short-winded.  The pinpricks of emotion are getting more frequent.

I know, from the years I have already lived, that the moment of parting might be painful, like the ripping off of a band aid, but soon after, I will feel better.  In 32 days, I will feel better.

But now, it really is hard.  And I don't want any of my long-settled friends in Israel to try to convince me it's not.  There are a lot of goodbyes to say - to people, places and things that have been part of my life for so long, I can't remember ever not having them.  And goodbyes to newer relationships that I lack the time to nurture, places I'll likely never visit now and things I won't have in my home anymore.  I'm more than willing to say goodbye to all that.

But I reserve the right to cry when saying goodbye.