The hardest thing in this world is for a person to part from those who love him and whom he loves, and to distance himself from a people he has grown to know and who have come to know him, entrusting them with his memories and making them a beautiful part of his life and an influential chapter in his life's stories. They can never be forgotten, and it is hard for anyone to take their place. At that point, the taste of separation becomes bitter, and the trace of farewell turns to burning embers. Yet, such is the state of this world; its people are constantly arriving and departing, experiencing pains and hopes. Thus, they vary in their pain of farewell and differ in their endurance of separation—ranging from the complaining and weeping to the patient and grateful. As the poet Usama ibn Munqidh (who died in 584 AH) said long ago: 'People complained of the pain of separation before me... and both the living and the dead were startled by parting.'

Given that separation is of two types—a short, temporary one in this world, and a long one until God inherits the earth and everyone on it—farewell in all its states and forms is a painful matter because, simply put, it is 'the separation of the one you love!' The heartache that this farewell leaves behind is difficult, but it is the law of life: 'Love whomever you wish, for you shall surely part from him.' Because of this farewell, poets wept long, lovers sighed much, birds grew tender for the hearts of those bidding farewell, and distances yearned for the hearts of those leaving. However, what offers consolation regarding separation—whatever its type—is hope; 'How narrow life would be were it not for the vastness of hope!' In long separation, one is comforted by the Almighty's saying: 'Close friends, that Day, will be enemies to each other, except for the righteous,' while short separation is consoled by the poet's verse: 'And God may bring together two scattered souls after they both think strongly that they will never meet.'

I said this when I departed from wonderful loved ones, sincere brothers, and closely-knit neighbors who, along with us, were like a single family after we spent a long time together. They were as the poet described: 'They are the family, and the keeper of the secret does not spread it...' I parted from them without bidding them farewell. Some of them had sensed the near date of my travel and asked me not to leave until they could say goodbye to me. But because I cannot endure the hard moments of farewell, and because I did not want to bring distress into the souls of those kind people or burden them with sad farewell occasions, I left them on a quiet morning without their knowledge, reciting to myself verses from the famous farewell poem by Ibn Zaydun al-Baghadi (420 AH):

'I bade him farewell, while it was my desire that he would bid me farewell,'

'Wishing the purest of life, and that I would not have to bid him farewell.'

'And how he clung to me on the day of departure in the morning...'

'While my tears were flowing continuously, and so were his.'

There were some whose sight I had grown accustomed to and whose company I had cherished, until it happened that we drifted apart, became busy, and the world separated us for a time. Yet, the affection between us remained beating and unbroken, until we met once more. However, it was a meeting of farewell, and I remembered at that time the words of Al-Mutanabbi:

'I sacrifice my father for the one I loved, yet we parted...'

'And God decreed a reunion after that.'

'So we parted for a year, and when we met...'

'His greeting to me was a farewell.'

Thus the meeting was a farewell, and memories passed by swiftly, until 'the tears of my eye overflowed with longing onto my collar until my tears moistened my saddle,' and 'I have encountered misfortunes, yet my tears did not flow as they did on the day of separation.'

Yes, my eyes welled with tears upon departure, and those tears I saw bidding me farewell pained me. Even those whose tears I never expected to see upon leaving gave farewell its majesty and drew the canvas of separation. As for those who held back their tears, they were the ones who kept me awake and troubled, for their silence had beauty and the withholding of their tears had grandeur. Thus, farewell became elegant, separation became a friend, and I made hope my path. Every sun that has set will rise anew, and as the German writer Goethe says: 'With sweet hopes, separation becomes a celebration.'