The Importance of "Goodbye"

How many times have I, throughout my year here in Palestine, said goodbye? Probably hundreds. Every day to those I worked with. "Bye!", walking out of the teacher's lounge, out of the Environmental Education Center office, out of my host family's living room. "Aadi" (normal). But these everyday goodbyes are a peanuts compared with the multi-course feast of goodbyes I was counting on for sustenance when my YAGM year comes to an end.

The COVID-19 global pandemic has cut my YAGM year short by three months. And due to quarantine mandates, border shut downs, and a military occupation, I am leaving without saying goodbye.

There were hundreds of things I had planned on, counted on, doing with my last three months. There were dozens of things various members in my community had excitedly told me about.

"We'll go camping in the desert in April. You will love the sunrise".

"I'll invite you over to my house for dinner. I want you to meet my family".

"My dad wants to have a barbecue at our house once it gets a little warmer out".

"We'll go to the beach in Tel Aviv together once I get my permit this spring!"

"You will LOVE the apricots once they are in season. Best in the world".

"We should go get ice cream together as an English Club activity!".

And so on.

Tears spring up in my eyes every time a new memory, moment, or beloved person pops up in my mind, my brain hesitantly being forced to transition it all into the "memory" compartment, no longer an aspect of everyday life.

I am mourning. I am grieving the loss of my sixth graders saying "Good Morning Mrs. Mira...AND Miss Maddi" every Monday and Tuesday as we walked into class. I am mourning my drives with Joan on the way to work. I think I learned more in that car than any classroom. I am mourning Singer Cafe, and the baristas who made me sahla

b and mint tea while telling me about their poetry, or their future plans. I experienced the last "Sabah Alhair" (good morning) from Khaled, the gardener at the EEC, walking in the office with the best smile this world has to offer, without even knowing it. I long for one last hug and smile from my host mother. One more night talking politics and life with my host dad on the porch. Another night out with my host sisters. A last driveway soccer match with Chris, my host-cousin. And so, so much more.

As my brain struggles to find strength to process this all, a thousand little glints of moments, smiles, tears, and promises rush through my mind in a wave, leaving behind a trail of emotional devastation and heartbreak.

I am so lucky to have been enveloped by this place with all its love and life, and so unlucky to be ripped from it without the chance to say goodbye. Inshallah (God willing), I will be back very soon.

The Palestinian National Flower

The EEC has been such a huge part of my life in Palestine. This place and these people will always be in my heart.

My host sisters, Jina, Emily, and Lina. These three women are all so incredibly driven, compassionate, hilarious, and smart. I feel very lucky to have been a part of their family for seven short months.

My amazing, amazing host mother. I don't have any pictures with her, because most of our time spent together was pajama-clad, keeping warm, and eating yummy fireside snacks.

My host father Fadi. This man will make you laugh the second you walk in the door, and is one of the best people I know at articulating the Israeli occupation's effects on Palestinians.

The lovely family of teachers at ELS. This was from our very first barbecue together. There were many more planned for spring.