Day 96: Or maybe there were just too many goodbyes to count

“I don’t care if it’s a sad good-bye or a bad good-bye, but when I leave a place I like to know I’m leaving it. If you don’t, you feel even worse.” -The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger

The last time I went to church in Provo, maybe that’s what I was looking for: a Holden Caulfield goodbye. After all, I really hadn’t had a proper one, the way being done had just snuck up on me like that.

But what was there left to say goodbye to? The chapel and its pews? The sacrament prayers? These ward members who I’d never gotten to know? The smell of well-worn hymnals?

Like trying to say goodbye to that empty seat next to you on the bus, still warm but totally empty.

(This is Day 96 of a 100-day project. For more about When I Was Mormon, read the introductory post. To access older posts, visit latest stories and scroll down.)