“Why don’t you want to go?” he asked.
He was in his mid-thirty, my mentor. I remember the first time we met, it was my first day on the job. He had insisted I finish a whole pan of pizza before going home, saying he had to do the same when he was a newcomer. I immediately liked him.
“Because once we move, they are going to separate us. I don’t want to change team.”
The new fiscal year organization chart called for a merge of our team and Mechanical Group. I was fresh out of university and my first team in my first job is a dream-comes-true. And the stupid merge would tear us all apart.
“Changes is inevitable,” he said.
And how true those words are.
Seven years later, I stood looking at my now (but soon to be ex-) mentor bending on the floor doing some last minute packing. He picked a piece of something off the floor only to realize the suitcase’s wheel had broken off. I couldn’t help but let a small laugh at the silliness of the whole situation. For some reason, he reminds me of my first mentor. Must be the fact that they are both extremely good at what they do, and yet exceptionally crazy.
But this time, I did not dread the goodbye anymore.
I was not that wide-eyed, innocent, fresh graduate anymore. Over the years I had learned that changes are indeed inevitable, that people will continue walking in and out of my life anytime, and that I cannot stop people from leaving. Not if they wish so.
What I can do instead is remembering them and all the things they have taught me. What I can do is let them go and quit holding on so they can fly higher than they do right now. What I can do is cherish the friendship that once stood tall and forever wish for the best for them.
For changes is inevitable. Especially is for one’s heart.
to those who walked out of my life, what I can do is
for whatever you have done when you were in it.