Everyone has to say them. Everyday.
Some goodbyes are easy; the ones you know aren't forever, between you and your best friend you see everyday, or the ones you hope to be forever; date gone wrong, oddball for a man on the train who won't stop talking to you.
Some are a lot harder; leaving someone you love dearly, whether that's only for a few days, a few weeks, a couple of months or a more immeasurable length of time. Burying someone in the ground is probably the hardest and most permanent goodbye, and one that no one ever wants to say.
But something I'm discovering is that no matter how many times you have to say it, the word 'goodbye' never gets any easier. Its only seven letters. Its a mere two syllables. It takes a second to say.
But the finality of those seven letters, the emotional attachment to those two syllables, and the realisation that your loved one is gone one way or another in that second, is the reason that saying goodbye is the hardest thing to do. It might not be the longest word, but saying requires the strength to let go in one way or another. And hearing that seven letter, two syllable, one second word is perhaps the most brutal way of being introduced to it.