Sure, we knew each goodbye was coming. The problem was knowing which goodbye would be final. Horrors! To say "goodbye forever" and see them again... I know I said "goodbye forever" twice to most of our troupe. It was unsatisfying. The opposite of having a single mutual goodbye cry.
The goodbye cry is expressing your emotion for the loss of the thing you love - person, group, or experience. It doesn't require tears. It could be a throat lump more painful than any Contiki cough or a gloominess that makes you frown. It comes in three flavours: I cry, you cry, and we cry.
I cry sucks. I'm crying for someone or something else and there's no reciprocation, just the feeling of loss. Either they don't, can't, or fail to show feeling the same emotion. Each premise bequeaths me with the same lossy low.
You cry feels warm and good. Someone is crying for me. I have touched them deeply enough that they feel pain from my loss and in my introspection, I lose touch with the sadness I should feel. I instead ride high on the ego boost.
We cry is... satisfying. We have love to lose for each other. In the embrace, our quivering chests amplify the realization. We exchange teary, grimacey smiles, return to the comfort of a shoulder or chest to leave a tearpool, then with a turning glance, mouth some last voiceless goodbye before walking away and stealing one more unmet look a few paces later. It's closure.
Each of these three goodbyes have excellent closure. They are emotional and don't have to be revisited. When you find yourself facing someone you recently shared one of these goodbyes with - one of those people you'll miss most - you don't want to talk to them. You'll acknowledge their presence. You might say "Hey, we already said goodbye. I don't want to talk to you anymore." Any interaction is poor. You can't recreate the same emotional response, and each subsequent goodbye will be anticlimactic at best.
Goodbyes with the people you didn't bond as deeply with are interesting. All those people that were part of the group, but didn't have the opportunity to grow hurtfully close to you. We hug and both say, "It was so nice meeting you! We'll have to catch up on Facebook, ok? Good luck with the stuff you have to do." Each subsequent goodbye is identical. As a result, recurrences are light social formalities with some slightly awkward moments. Over and over, it becomes a river of boring melancholy.
But goodbyes are deathly inevitable! We must goodbye! They aren't happy. Our brains don't like the change. Still, we must. Instead, love the change, cherish feeling, and embrace the long, slow goodbye.
Gooooooooodbyyyyyyyye,
-Doug