The Art of Saying Goodbye
By Adebisi Amori
We had only been friends for a year, but she was special to me. The first friend I made in university, and now I have to prepare for her departure. Her mother had planned to relocate the family at the end of the academic year. The day we said goodbye, I realized no amount of grounding can prepare you for a close friend’s departure. Her relocation only seemed to cause a domino effect because soon after, I had to say goodbye to many more friends. People who were once a part of my every day, now became virtual connections over different time zones.
In my final year at University, I conducted research on the lived experiences of Nigerians in the diaspora, interviewing Nigerian immigrants in the global North, with particular focus on the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada; all countries with high populations of Nigerians. The japa wave (a slang popularly used to refer to the increased migration of Nigerians to other countries) was reaching a fever high, and was on the lips of almost every Nigerian. I studied people’s reasons for migrating, their struggles upon arrival, their altered family dynamics and relationships, as well as their coping mechanisms for dealing with migration.
Back then, I didn’t realise that just months down the line, this research would be so invaluable to me, because the japa wave would hit me personally. I watched as my aunty and cousins, who I’d grown up with and spent every holiday with, move to a different country. A phone call with a friend could switch from a regular catch up to a revelation of their departure. In no time, I became very fluent in the art of saying goodbye.
During my research, I interviewed Nigerians from diverse backgrounds, both economically and culturally. Men and women of different age groups, with both big and small families. Their reasons for leaving were similar: better economic opportunities, higher education, family, marriage, among others. My research showed that migration came with many struggles. It wasn’t just adjusting to the weather and food, or feeling a sense of cultural disconnect, but high levels of loneliness and mental fatigue. Many of my research participants confessed that they were struggling and that they often felt isolated. The research highlighted the importance of family ties and connections back home. This struck a chord with me, deepening my resolve to maintain ties with my loved ones. I now understood how important a simple conversation could be to them.
At first, I did not allow myself to feel sad. My loved ones were moving for better economic opportunities, a more functional and accountable government, and rigorous higher education, much like those I interviewed for my research. However, I soon realized there are only so many goodbyes you can say before it begins to take a toll on you.
This realization that things would be different really sank in at Christmas. I missed the loud greetings and jokes of my aunts and uncles who visited us on the holiday. I missed having my cousins to play pranks with. I missed standing side by side with my aunty and having everyone exclaim at how alike we were. I never realized how much it all meant to me until I no longer had it. There were birthday parties without half the family, weddings over Zoom, and funerals where many loved ones were unable to come home.
I know now that it is okay to feel supportive of people’s dreams while still mourning their loss.
With every loved one that migrates, I’ve come to accept that my feelings are complex and that that’s okay. There's joy, but it's also okay to feel a little sorrow that there are some memories that will never be made. I won't spontaneously eat lunch at their place, invite them to come spend a night at my house, go to bookstores together, or cry in their car. We’re restricted to a screen now. But while there’s grief, there’s also joy and gratitude that we still get to stay connected. It hasn’t gotten easier to say goodbye. Maybe, it never will. However, knowing our relationship will still exist even if we are a million miles away, shows me how much love I really have in my life.
Adebisi Amori is a writer from Ibadan, Nigeria. Her works have appeared in diverse publications around the world and explore themes of belonging, identity, gender, and more. In her free time, she loves watching movies, listening to podcasts, and reading books. You can follow Adebisi on X and Instagram @theadebisiamori.
Disclaimer: The opinions and views expressed in this blog post are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions or views of Immigrantly.