When we part from a loved one for a lengthy period, we are more likely to think morose thoughts, such as: "What if
s/he never returns? What if s/he dies while away? What if that car heading north is the last I ever see him/her
alive? What if I die before s/he comes back? What if his/her body is mangled and burned beyond recognition when
the plane crashes?" Or is it only my imagination that works toward such dramatic conclusions?
That "lengthy period" might be two days, two weeks, or much longer. Perhaps s/he is a child going to college far
away, and we won't see each other for nearly a year? After living with and seeing someone day in and day out for
years, the person is suddenly gone. It doesn't matter for how long the venture might have been planned. It is the
point when we say goodbye that matters. That is when it hits us. They will be gone from us for a time. This
shock is often brought home with a lengthier than usual goodbye. It activates the worry genes getting our parental
or lover's instincts all in a tizzy. "What happens if." begins every thought.
The truth of the matter is, that this is all nonsense. People are more likely to die in their own beds or in an
accident within five miles of home or in a similarly prosaic way. Most people don't make long journeys or take
exciting trips to go die. So, this brings us to a conclusion. Either we should treat every small parting, even
nighttime sleeps, as histrionically and importantly as we do major partings, or we should treat the major parting
as if it were nothing more than the daily leaving for work.
One wonders how it is for the families of traveling consultants. Do their spouses have the same level of pain on
parting and excitement at return after they have been through it week after week for five or ten years? Or does it
dull to some level of commonplace apathy. "Have fun going to the airport, dear. I'm going back to sleep now."
"Ah, you're home. Have fun with the kids. My weekend started with your return." Is this sort of thing better or
worse than being histrionically dramatic at every parting, even that of consciousness for the night?
Perhaps the human brain is just miswired in such a way as to only see the importance of a long parting? We take it
for granted that our loved ones will always be there. On the phone, we end the conversation with, "I love you."
Is it just habit? Are we just babbling platitudes, or are we taking the parting seriously and meaning the words we
say? Maybe next time you part from a loved one, you'll think about this, and say something that is from the
heart, and not just the lips.
I love you. Bye, now!
F. B. Knight is Curmudgeon-in-Residence at the Attila the Hun School of Management. He can be reached for questions at
fbk@attilathehunschool.net.
