At my grandmother’s funeral earlier this year, my aunt gave the eulogy. In a church filled with her legacy – her people – she recounted Sylvia’s misadventures and tender moments. What struck me most, though, was when my aunt talked about the way that it felt when you arrived to see her.
You’d walk in, and no matter who you were or how long it had been, she would meet you with the most enthusiastic greeting, my aunt recalled. Sylvia would open her arms to hold you in a big embrace, kiss your cheek, and gush about how happy she was to see you. And she really, really meant it. You felt like this most important person in the world.
When my aunt talked about this, I glanced around at the people dotting the pews, and I could see dozens of head nods and bittersweet smiles. We’d all felt this from her.
Sylvia had a way of making you feel like you were her favorite person in the world, and I believe that when you were in her presence, you were. (For the record though, I was indeed her actual favorite.) When she passed, I began thinking a lot about what it felt like and meant to be delighted in. How precious that experience is, how much it can change the course of a day – or a life.
I thought too about how she practiced this special magic of delighting, what it actually looked like. My aunt’s description of what it was like to walk in Sylvia’s house and feel like your presence was relished – I realized that was such a big part of the magic.
It was in the hello.
And it was also in the goodbye. She’d send you off with another kiss on the cheek, old magazines or bags of candy, and eyes glimmering with love.
When I recognized this, I thought about the times I’ve talked to partners in couples therapy about the power of hellos and goodbye. For couples feeling disconnected or worse, greetings and farewells have often evaporated. Partners come and they go and no one says a word. Or perhaps someone will return to the house and announce a half-hearted, “I’m home,” – more as a courtesy than an acknowledgement.
If you’ve been here, you might know the invisible ache of this. It often happens so subtly so as not to raise any alarms, but for me, it’s a flag that the relationship’s attachment might be at risk. Greeting each other with energy and warmth is foundational to feeling seen, known, and loved.
Sometimes I’ll share with couples that the early research on attachment was actually all about helios and goodbyes. The research was examining how children develop secure bonds – an inner working model of safety that’s been found vital to all sorts of relational and emotional outcomes in childhood and later in life. How the scientists studied this was not watching how children interacted with their parents in play or togetherness, but specifically by watching what happened when a caregiver left and when a caregiver returned.
Those arrival and departure moments were pivotal in revealing the attachment between parent and child. Securely attached children would get distressed when the mother left (take heart, parents whose heart breaks to see your kiddo upset when you leave – that’s healthy!), and they would seek comfort and closeness when she returned. Less securely attached children would show a range of other responses. They would either become distraught or indifferent to the departure, and then when the mother returned, they would act upset or aloof.
There is something profoundly important about these moments of departure and return. Relationships are relationships not because of the presence we have when we are together (we can be in just about anyone’s presence – a clerk, a stranger on the train), but the fact that our connection remains even across time and space. Reunions – what it is like to return to each other – are the expression of that relationship. They are the chance to remind each other, “I see you. You are important to me. Your presence matters.”
The rituals of reunions – the hellos and goodbyes – can be revealing, but I believe they can also be constructing. We can work backwards, if you will, helping to signal and shape the connection in the way that we respond to this transitional moments.
I give parents the same advice I give couples: over-index on greetings; let goodbyes linger. Be over the top in your expression of excitement to return to your child. Don’t diminish your delight. And yes, this applies to teenagers too – though they might scoff or eyeroll, don’t let their edginess deter from this practice. Your delight in their being is absorbing, I promise.
In the final moments I spent with my grandmother, she awoke from her deep sleep, her eyes heavy and her face covered with an oxygen mask. The nurse walking by saw that she had awakened and came in to remove the mask so that we could speak. My grandma’s eyes reached mine and the sparkle instantly filled them. I was holding her hand and she squeezed it with her weakened but noticeable grip. She spoke with all of the tenderness I’d known since the day I arrived as a newborn home from the hospital to her house and said, “I’m so happy to see you!”
And every fiber of my being knew she was.
