Goodbyes are so hard sometimes. All the time. But sometimes, they are just necessary. Stuck between what was and what is, is the brown leaf on the tree in winter. Dead, but still holding on- for what purpose? Perhaps only stuck to what it knew, but now getting ice and snow and doomed to the hell of winter- all by itself and unprotected.

So perhaps, goodbyes are good. Hard, harder than hello, but good.