Hard Goodbyes

I have always been a theater fan, and I love musicals. I’m kind of a little old lady now, so as you can imagine, I have seen quite a few of them over the years.

“Fiddler of the Roof” has remained my absolute favorite, even after all the time that has passed since the first time I saw it.

I never have gotten to see it on Broadway–I have never even been to New York City. My first encounter with it was the movie, which came out when I was in Junior High. I saw it in the movie theater in my hometown. After the first viewing, I bought another ticket and watched it again. I was enchanted.

I still am.

If the movie was on television, I would rearrange my schedule around it. While my kids were growing up, they were repeatedly exposed to it. My daughters insisted “Grease” was the word, but I maintained then and now that the real word is “Tradition”.

Years after my first exposure to the story, my then-husband had knee surgery in Jackson, Wyoming, and while he was recuperating we went to see a local production of the play. He had never seen a musical on stage, and he, too was enchanted. It surprised us both—he’d expected to take a little nap, and I expected he’d ask when we could leave. Instead, I watched him watch the show, delighting in his obvious pleasure.

It’s that sort of story, the one that hits you right in the feels. Children growing up; falling in love; leaving home. Strife in the community. Strife in the world. The anguish of losing a home and dealing with bigotry. This one never gets old or loses relevance.

And, oh! The music!

The magic of video streaming means I can watch this whenever I want, and I watch it all the time. Every song is a delight. A couple of them are real tear-jerkers.

This one always gets me, though: “Far From the Home I Love”. It has struck me in different ways over the years.

As a kid, the first time I heard this song, I swore I would never put my father through the pain of having to say goodbye to me.

But, of course, I did. I didn’t stay home forever. Like everyone, I grew up. I moved out, first remaining in town, and then on to another. Every move took me further and further away.

As a parent, every time one of my own children moved away, this song came to mind. I would remind myself that they had their own lives, their own loves; that going away might be best for them, no matter how I felt about it.

Saying goodbye is hard. Staying “home” isn’t always possible. I think we all have gone through the feeling of wanting to stay and wanting to go at the same time. It is not easy.

Right now, I spend most of my time with my mother. When I go home, saying goodbye is especially hard. Although my plan is always a week away at most, I do have to face the fact that she is in her 80s, and there is a chance I won’t see her again. The last time I went home for a week, I came back and brought my father home from a nursing facility and put him into Hospice care at home so he wouldn’t be alone in his last days. We said goodbye to him less than two weeks later, and I thank God neither of us were far from home when he took his last breath.

Soon I will make another week long journey far from the home I love, and I am fearful. How do people do it, I wonder. How do they leave, not knowing if their loved ones will be there when they return? Still, I could disappear from this life myself and Mom could live into her 100s.

We’re promised nothing.

For whatever reason, when I say goodbye to family, this is the song playing in my head. Other family members are on the other end of each trip, and I always have hope in the words, “There, with my love, I’m home.”

I leave one home, and I’m content in the other. And then, I leave that home so I can be content here. With each leaving, I hear the sad strains of the song again. I have loves, and not one of them has failed to stray from home. Nor have I.

They say it’s a small world, yet everyone is so far away…

Have a listen. Have hope.

Far From the Home I Love

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JNTNU7etW8&feature=youtu.be