Saying Goodbye

I hate saying goodbye. I live in a house where I am the primary parent figure and today my son (23) who has been the other "adult" in the house moved out.He has not been the most active participant of family life. Mostly he spent time here up in his room, talking to friends on the computer... but I have drawn comfort from his being there. I will miss hearing him practice his guitar and wailing his songs to the air. I'll miss our intense conversations. I'll miss his supportive hugs.
My daughter and her husband are going to move from the comfortable two hour away drive to Arizona. This means grandchildren will no longer accessible. They won't be bopping up to spend a day at the beach with grandma. I look at the booster seat in my shed, and the stroller, and the basket of toys I have ready for their visit...and I feel the emptiness of their departure before it even happens. I'll miss getting my grandma fix without a plane ride....
Because I spent a great deal of my childhood in Africa...and because it was punctuated by leaving every four years to come back to the States with my parents, I hate goodbyes. They trigger this avalanche of emotions that date from way back, to places that have lain dormant for years. So these two events are conspiring to make an earthquake in my emotions, and I am trying to sigh through their intensity.