Time to Say Goodbye

Farewell is beautiful

A glimpse into the future

Farewell is wonderful

Is sets for Adventure.

Goodbye, Farewell by Kolabomi Adeko

As I begin to make my final preparations for a once-in a lifetime experience in the USA, working for the campaign to re-elect Barack Obama to the White House, I am taken by the differences in goodbye that I've had, or will be having, over this summer. Goodbye, Farewell, See ya, Toodles...all ways we say goodbye, but each instance is tinged with some different meaning.

The first is the proud, heartfelt, patriotic goodbye that I have said to London 2012. Having had the honour of being a spectator at both the Olympic and Paralympics games I can say, categorically, that this was the proudest I have ever been of my country and my city. The detractors have been silenced, the public have been awed and the athletes have been spectacular. As I left the stadium lit up in red, white and on Saturday night - having watching Oscar Pistorius storm to 400m Gold, it was with sadness, but with pride that I whispered goodbye to those miraculous and beautiful venues. The dramatic and moving tribute to both games, brought by Coldplay and an army of performers - plus thousands of pounds worth of fireworks - was a perfect testament to what we, the United Kingdom and London, have done for sport - able and disabled - across the world. With tears in my eyes, I joined the millions watching in thanking and saying goodbye to all those volunteers, athletes and officials who have made it such a wonderful sporting spectacle.

Next is the recent angry goodbye I have said to someone I very much cared about. We've had a bit of a tough time, meeting for the first time only a month and a half ago. But we had a good time and I really thought, through the brief moments we had, something could work. However niggling arguments, differing expectations and time pressures culminated in a bit of a bust up - meaning a proper goodbye hasn't been possible. Perhaps its not a final goodbye, but right now, it certainly feels like one. 

Third is the drunken goodbye I said to a number of people in one go last week. What better way is there to say goodbye for three months to people you love than with a shot? I certainly can't think of one. No tears, no sadness, just good old fashioned drunken haze. Perfect. And, let's be honest, three months isn't long; before we know it, I'll be back celebrating Obama's victory (and my hand in it) with even more alcohol at Christmas time. 

Finally, there's the goodbye that will happen as I leave my home. If the last time I went away for three months is anything to go by, there's going to be tears. Lots of tears. When I went to Bangladesh for three months, I spent the entirety of the security line trying to hold back the tears - having seen my Mum's dripping face as I left - and running off to the toilet for fifteen minutes to try and calm down. Not fun. 

But goodbye isn't final. There is always the promise of return, the promise of rekindling, the promise of stories to tell. It is nothing in comparison to its more beautiful cousin, Hello. A word I am getting excited about using. Hello to all those people I am going to meet. Hello to a new country; a country I, like many Brits, feel I know but am all too aware that I probably don't. And, when I return, it will be a whole new world of Hello's.