In saying farewell immediately nostalgia moves in. We start missing what is before us because perhaps this is the last time we see something, do something, go somewhere. There is a certain vulnerability and heightened senses at the same time. Everything tastes better, everything looks better... It's like the memory we choose to keep from our childhood. When we insist on making ourselves believe that everything was good then, everything was better then, even sadness was simpler... how naive.
Everything seems better partly because it's familiar, while everything on the other side of the abyss is ... unknown. Everything on the other side looks very much like that song from The Doors:
"people are strange, when you are a stranger,
faces look ugly, when you are alone..."
...you know the one.
Also, the abyss is not the type that you just close your eyes and jump into. Moving is possibly the sole abyss that you actually have to put together, brick by brick, in order to be able to cross it.
Grief and loss are an intrinsic part of this expat life, the one where you start off thinking that life is a playground and you can just get off one ride and hop on to the other. In real life there is a cost, there is a loss, everyone around you is affected, everyone suffers, even those that stay behind, the ones that surround you and watch you turn your back and walk away mid sentence, while you walk through the little foot path you've put together over that abyss to try to get to the other side, holding one child on each arm, praying to god that you'll be strong enough to get everyone safe to the other side, and reminding yourself that there is another side, that at least some of it will be fun, that at the end of this path there will be a rainbow, because every dodgy path you cross in life adds new colours and new tones to your life; new words, new tastes, new stories. So that rainbow will be brighter.
Because at the other side, when you make it (and there is no reason to believe you won't make it), the sun will shine again, and if there were tears, once again there will be smiles. And then you'll be able to put the kids back on firm ground, roam new gardens, climb new trees, discover new adventures, while your arms recover from the effort, perhaps strengthened too, and grab some coffee.