The Bittersweet End of A Visit
I miss you, my sister
It’s when you don’t see someone for months or even years at a time when you experience the strangeness of having them live in your world for a short time. You spend time recalling the life you lived and shared, forming new memories and having it come to a bittersweet ending when they leave. Having a friend or family member visit you inside one of the most intimate places, your home, is such a special time. A time that produces mixed emotions. Spending time under one roof sure has its set of memories and reflections.
Opening my door to my family and friends has always been a small dream of mine. Thankfully, we have moved and now have a house that can accommodate a guest or two in a little room that sets off from the porch. It’s a modest little space, but warm and welcoming as I tried my best to make it as accommodating as possible.
My first overnight visitor was my sister, her boyfriend and her very energetic dog. My sister lives far away, although instead of living across the country, she lives just a state away now. It’s still a mercilessly long drive to come see me, and I appreciate all her effort. But as much as I long to see my sister, it’s the bittersweetness of the visit that affects me more than anything. Maybe it’s because I don’t see her or talk to her enough, maybe it’s because I don’t have access to her on a daily basis. But no matter who visits for how long, if they aren’t in my daily life, I experience the highest of highs and then the lowest of lows.
The first few days are always filled with excitement, the air is electric, the week ahead full of promise and adventure. Stories of memories are shared with gusto, a rite that always seems to come about whenever a loved one visits. Thoughts and feelings of those times long ago flood back in and experienced like it was yesterday. It’s the evening when all it set to rest, we retreat into our beds, waiting for another exciting day when the culmination of our relationship is in the hands of this visit. Usually it’s at night, when my thoughts turn to the day, to the family member staying in my house, to the past we’ve shared, the ups and the downs and the new day ahead to forge new memories. And then a new day begins.
Along the way are the minor irritants that usually accompany when guests stay at your house. The ring left on your table where a drink couldn’t find its coaster, having to dress very appropriately all day and night. Being respectful of the noise you make if they are still sleeping. Sometimes I would catch myself in a moment and be minorly annoyed by the mess around me, wondering what day it is, asking myself what day they depart.
Friday night, the 6th night of hosting and I was ready. Ready to get my house back, ready for them to go home, ready for some peace and quiet. But the very next day when we were all getting up, I knew it was going to be hard to say goodbye. It was hard to hold back the tears knowing that I won’t see them tomorrow or next week. It’s not easy living apart from people you love.
And then after we all have had enough fun, it’s time for us to part ways. It’s time for them to leave. I think the saddest part is the emptiness. Walking into a room where their things were scattered about and seeing an empty bathroom counter that was once filled with various items. It’s the dog bowl placed in the corner that is no longer visible. It’s when you look to find them, but they are gone. You recount the week you’ve had, the activities that have taken place, the adventures and the laughter that seem to echo from a distance.
It’s the goodbyes that are excruciatingly painful. Your thoughts go from relief back to pain, to relief, back to pain. I was relieved to get my house back, sad how quiet it has become, mourning how quickly time in general seems to go by, depressed by the thought I can’t just drive 15 or 20 min to see them. That the next time we see each other, we will be older, my toddler will have grown even faster, and the memory of this visit will be but another notch in the time of life, when the feelings of the week have dissipated, and life will have to move on. Life’s normal routine will return. It is brutally bittersweet.
Then as the days pass, you find little remnants of their stay. The muddy paw prints left on your back steps, the last bit of their leftover food in a to-go box, left in your fridge from the night you ate out at a restaurant. It’s as if each discovery beckons a hello, a tender reminder. You are a little amused but then filled with sadness as you throw away their food and clean up the pawprints.
Alas, we will have the memories, the photos capturing a moment in time, time you want to freeze and never let go. Knowing that those moments are gone in a flash, but forever in your heart. The hustle and bustle of a house full of visitors, knowing it is not always like this. Seeing the sweet look on your toddler’s face and his expression any time he calls his aunt’s name.
I miss the week I just had; I miss having my sister around. But this week will not be forgotten. It is etched into our souls, and in photos, and I know somewhere down the line those details will disappear, but we will always know about the time we spent together and recall, hey remember when…until the next remember when.
