Funeral for a Friend

I had bought the bag when I was in highschool. It was messenger style, brown canvas, with two pockets on the flap, embellished with blue and brown plaid. However, sorting through my purses today, I realized that I not only wanted to leave this bag behind, but that I no longer wanted it at all. I looked up at my friend Steph, sitting on my bed.

"Hey, do you like this? You can have it if you want."
"Are you giving away all your things? It's like your funeral or something," she said.

And, kids, it very much is. Moving is exciting, but right now, I've found this bittersweet melancholic haze has taken over. I feel as though I'm soldiering toward the move instead of sprinting to it now. I'm giving away all my things, like a living will.

You know how there are distant relatives or friends you only see once someone drops dead? The deal is the same with moving. People you haven't seen for a year. People you've just met, they all come out of the woodwork. You have to say all of your goodbyes. Get some closure, or at least let them know they're welcome to visit your new life once you've settled in.

Thursday, I had coffee with a friend of mine from Starbucks. In the afternoon of the same day, I met up with a guy friend of from my days at Sheridan. I hadn't seen the Starbucks friend in about a week, and it had literally been about a year since I had seen my college pal. I had to say goodbye to both of them. She hugged me and then bequeathed me a set of knives for my new kitchen.. He hugged me so hard he picked me up off the ground. My favourite hugs are the kind that hurt.

Sometimes, moving is like a funeral because you struggle to find closure. Sometimes, you can't see all the people you want to. You can't give them reasons, or get rid of all of the things you wish you could say.  Sometimes, you don't get to spit out all the goodbyes you want to and I think that's going to be the hardest part right now.
ANGSTANGSTANGST vs. excitement, basically.  Je ne sais pas.