Farewells in a wired world

Two years ago, my two best friends left New York to travel the world. I bowed out early from the despedida, leaving without giving them a hug. I said I had a bad cough, and I didn’t lie. I really did have a choked up feeling in my throat.

We excused each other from a dramatic goodbye until they finally took off, instead saying the more cliché, “See you later.” There really was no need for it, we rationalized. We would chat online and we’d see each other on Facebook the way we always have. Or would we?

Are farewells still necessary?

Farewells are almost unnecessary in a smaller world where social networking makes it impossible to say goodbye. The resurfacing of high school classmates and past romances is already a challenge in delineating friendships from acquaintances. At the onset, we feel excited to reconnect, but soon realize that there was actually a reason we didn’t keep in touch.

With my friends, I felt almost betrayed by the reliability of online communication. I knew that they would be blogging and sharing each step of their adventure with their hundreds of online acquaintances. In fact, since they left two Aprils ago, they’ve maintained a blog and a Facebook page. They’ve shared photos of live octopus and raw crab before they devoured them in South Korea, details of a 22-hour ferry ride from Asia to Russia, taming the Trans-Siberian railway, and their exploration of Russia, Estonia, France, and Romania.

After meeting them briefly in Turkey at the end of last year, I learned that they were taking a second year off to find their way around Asia. Then they would head back to Europe, then Australia, then God knows where. I guess I’ll just catch them online.

Since they left, I’ve found it hard to comment on their posts past the occasional Like and “Wow,” nor have I been able to resume the long conversations we used to have face-to-face. Sometimes we catch each other on Google Hangouts and I stand there in front of them, unable to progress beyond a few dirty jokes. It’s embarrassing.

The world is smaller

It’s true that it’s so much easier to bridge geographical constraints via the Internet, and if I wanted to, I could regale them with a long email of how exactly I am doing. But my brain is still stuck on the convenience of proximity, on the spontaneity of last-minute neighborhood meet-ups, and being able to call each other up about the darkening sky to ask if it’s rained yet downtown while I’m seeing the first drops fall in midtown. 

I’m realizing more than ever how much this particular friendship lived IRL (in real life) and depended on the immediate interpretation of sudden eye movements and non-verbal cues – ones that in words and photos are just impossible to convey.

We lie about goodbyes

A wise friend told me that we must lie to each other about departures or else we’d never be able to part ways. We needed to make promises about writing letters and keeping each other updated on our daily events and achievements, and say silly things like, “Keep in touch.”

But the reality is that far away from each other, our worlds are vastly different, and pretty soon it becomes difficult to describe one’s new surroundings to someone who only has the old shared world as a basis of comparison. It’s not meant to belittle a place that one departed, but merely highlights one’s adjustment to another, and this is something he must face alone.

Yet with the presence of online communication, the one who went away isn’t entirely disconnected. He attempts to show photos and describe his new environment. The ones left behind struggle to understand, but after the laptops are closed and the devices are turned off, there’s still the distance. Our worlds are still too far apart.

So close but so far away

A friend in a long-distance relationship recently spent the night at our place. She slept beside a laptop which had her sleeping girlfriend on video chat through the night. It was the new way that LDR couples cohabited in the virtual world and shared their waking and sleeping moments “beside” each other. 

I asked my friend if it was easier now to be in a relationship with someone who was far away since communication technology was all within reach. Before she could answer, I qualified my question by asking, “Or is it harder because you can do virtually everything together but you can’t touch?”

My friend leaned towards the latter. It used to be that far apart we were out of sight, and there was a little delay and a lot of filtering between what we shared and what we kept to ourselves. In real-time communication, it’s pretty difficult to hide, so we pretend that we are not really apart. This works until the wrong word is dropped or a temper flares, and it’s impossible to backpedal and comfort each other with a much-needed hug.

It’s then that you feel the farewell you didn’t utter when you last parted ways. There’s a reason they call it “in real life,” I suppose. Beyond screens and calls, there is no touch, no company beside you as you explore your surroundings.

The world at the other end of the chat becomes almost fictional and separate, producing longing but also frustration, often forcing both sides to disconnect and deal with the world their loved ones do not inhabit, even if their images and voices are present in each other’s lives. – Rappler.com