I hate goodbyes. They make me anxious and unhappy. I want them to be perfect. And memorable. I obsess over them. Probably more than most.
After the death of each of my loved ones, I have grieved about the things left unsaid. Worried about the way the last conversations went. Had I said enough? Had I said too much? This preoccupation with the perfect ending can be problematic. Especially if one's partner is less so inclined. Jacques is pragmatic. I am not. Sometimes he rushes out the door without saying goodbye. Other times it's a quick kiss and a “see
