Saying Goodbye

‘Saying goodbye is always the hardest thing to do, isn’t it?’ I thought as I stood on stage, adlibbing something to say about the band director, the tears trying to form in my eyes. I’d said I’d “wing it,” but I had never imagined it would be so hard to say all the wonderful things I wanted to say. The last thing I wanted to say was goodbye, but essentially, that was what I was doing.

“And we’re not just sugarcoating it when we say that Mrs. Harrigan has been a great teacher and we‘re going to miss her so much.” I managed to squeak out the last words before the tears came. Mrs. Harrigan stepped forward and hugged me as I handed the microphone off to another band member.

Shortly after I sat down in my seat, my flute in hand, our resident class clown was given the microphone. He had two pieces of paper, which were taped together, in his hands. “I prepared a speech,” he said to the audience of parents in front of us and I almost giggled. He unfolded the papers and showed it to everyone - written in marker, in all-capital letters, was “I LOVE U.” Apparently, he hadn’t had room to spell out ‘you,’ but the meaning was the same anyway.

The simplicity and sweetness of it had an immediate impact on everyone, and “Aw” could be heard throughout the auditorium. Mrs. Harrigan even had tears in her eyes - I could tell because of the lighting. Frankly, so did I. The memories I’d made in my four years in middle school, my four years in concert band, were something to always be remembered. Everything we’d learned, all the times we’d goofed around in band, it all led up to the single word nobody wanted to say: goodbye.

I glanced down at the floor of the stage, at the carnation I had been given by Mrs. Harrigan. It had been white, but it was colored blue, one of the school colors. At that moment, the blue just reminded me of how sad the last day of school would be. It would be like saying, “We’ve had some great times, but I’m never going to see you again.”

Just after that, we played our final songs as a middle school band. I played my heart out, throwing emotion into those last three songs, just to say that I’d never forget. Never forget what? Honestly, I’m not sure.



When I got home, my mom put the carnation in a vase. I went upstairs and grabbed my journal, hastily turning to a blank page. With my favorite blue pen, I wrote and wrote about that concert, referring to it as one of the most emotional nights of my life, but in different words.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” was the first sentence to grace that page.