Saying goodbye is like falling asleep.
When it's time to go, your days of talking are over, and it's sad, because I have so much left to say.
Since this is my final article, I started to think about what I've forgotten. What regrets, as well as memories, I plan to take with me when this all comes to an end.
I think it's rather simple, to be honest. It starts first with the two words "I'm sorry," and finishes with the very similar "Thank you."
Now, how can these two coincide when in reality they're so different? It's obvious really.
To begin, I'm apologizing because I feel I've never given the proper people their due, something that begins within the lines and extends much further.
It's scary to imagine how much of my life has been shouldered on those around me. How many different people, who had no reason at all to help me, did.
To my colleagues, one who is 97 percent responsible for me having a job. To the others, who put up with my vulgar stories in long car rides, to one female I probably offended without even trying and for everyone who ever listened to me just to listen, I thank you for being there when I needed you.
To the people who gave me a chance to do this, giving me the opportunity to write for a living and who paid me $35 a week to do so. Thank you for the beer money.
To those immediate people around me, the friends and family category, which is cliché only because it's so true. Thank you for paying my tuition.
I'm sorry if I sound like I just received an Oscar, but I think I needed to do that. Maybe for some sick pleasure, I don't know. What I can say for certain, though, is I meant it, all of it, even more than I was able to write.
But moving on, I have to slap myself for this one.
I think sometimes in life you hide from the things that matter most, which somehow tell your whole story without ever saying a word. It's these things, which I'm sad I usually avoid, that at this moment are cutting holes in me.
Just a few weeks ago, one of the people who raised me died. I thought about this today with a sort of empty feeling. I understand why I've run from this issue, partly because I've dealt with this before and maybe because I understand I will again.
But mostly because I had to because I know my only comfort comes in dark rooms.
Typical people challenge misery in hopes it will keep their loved ones alive. I run.
Now, it's not so much about what I have done or will do that bothers me; there's no script for that. It's just, I want to say thank you for helping to bring me where I am today.
If the idea someone that watches you is true, I hope you're pleased with what you see today, and I hope you close your eyes for half of the repulsive things I do.
If nothing else, this one's for you.
Looking further back, about five years ago, I lost someone else who meant the world to me. Someone who, I know, would not only be happy I was successful, but smug, smug because she, unlike myself, actually believed in me.
I think there's no price you can put on how many souls are in your corner. I think if you really evaluate your life, you'll realize how small that number truly is.
So it's important to remember those people. Especially when memories are all you have.
She felt I could accomplish things I never saw. So for you, wherever you might be, this one goes out to you as well.
It was just a few days ago that I got a job, and when all the phone calls were made and my marks checked off the list, my father called.
"Son," he said. "They're probably dancing in heaven."
I know Pop, I just hope they dance forever.
