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The Weight of Goodbyes

Updated: Mar 19

Diary of a Lost Seoul – Entry #2


Is It the Goodbyes That Hurt, or the Silence That Follows?


I found a cozy little café in Seoul today—Gossypium. A warm, inviting space, the kind where you’d meet a friend, where an evening might turn into deep conversation over a drink and laughter. I recorded a little reel, waving as if to say, Come and join me.

But the truth is, my friends are far away, scattered across different time zones. Just a text away, yet somehow out of reach. Sitting there, it hit me—how much I miss those silly and deep discussions, the gossip, the heart-to-hearts, the effortless way we could jump from laughter to serious talks in a matter of minutes.


Before I left England for Seoul, I was always quite busy. Too busy to see everyone, too busy to slow down, too busy to plan a big farewell. But in honesty, I think it wasn’t just about time—I was pushing down the pain of leaving. A big goodbye party would have meant standing in a room full of people I cared about, confronting the reality that I was leaving them behind. It was easier to break it into small, intimate moments—one-on-one dinners, drinks, and coffees over two exhausting but touching weeks.

I was deeply moved by the love I received—thoughtful gifts, kind words, and the realization of just how many incredible friendships I had. But in the back of my mind, there was always that lingering fear: Who will truly miss me? Who will slowly forget? Who will I miss, and who will I forget?


Now, living in Seoul, I wonder—should I have had that big party after all? Would it have given me the closure I now realize I was searching for? Some goodbyes felt rushed, unfinished. Some I never even got to say. And now, distance stretches between us, and I wonder—will we pick up where we left off, or will life quietly move us in different directions?


Do We Really Have No Time?

We all tell ourselves we’re too busy to meet up, too swamped to send a message, too caught up in life to prioritize the people we love. But are we really? Or do we just assume that friendships will always be there, waiting for when we have more time?

Moving away has made me rethink this idea. In the West, we pride ourselves on independence, self-sufficiency. But the truth is, we’re not meant to do life alone. We are wired for connection.

In Korea, the culture is different. Friendship and belonging are embedded into daily life. Meals are shared, work relationships extend into social gatherings, and there’s a deep sense of responsibility toward friends and family. Confucian values emphasize harmony, community, and social roles, contrasting with Western ideals of independence and personal space.

But even here in Korea, modern life pulls people into busyness. Long working hours, company dinners, intense school schedules—relationships are valued, yet time for them often slips away. Maybe, no matter where we are, we’re all struggling to find space for the people who matter.


Who Stays, Who Drifts Away?

Leaving made me appreciate my friendships in a way I hadn’t before. It also made me confront my fears—who will stay in touch? Who will fade into the background of my past life? And what does it really mean to belong when the people who make you feel at home are far away?


So, I want to say—Thank You.

To those who supported me through the big decision, helped with the logistics, offered to help me pack, and threw leaving parties with surprise presents—to the ones who stepped forward unexpectedly, your kindness meant more than you know.

To those who came to pick me up from work when we had no car, taxied me around for last-minute errands. To those who took my clothes and belongings to charity, who found a home for my "clutter" when I no longer had the capacity to store or even think about it. To those who treated me to a lovely leaving dinner.


To my students and the classes I taught, who showered me with love and gifts. To those who truly miss me—I see you, and I miss you too. To the incredible dance mums and the dance school, who organized a beautiful farewell for my daughters. To all their little dance friends who put so much effort into making a wonderful leaving party and creating a heartfelt leaving book—your kindness and thoughtfulness mean the world to us.

Writing this brings tears to my eyes, especially with my birthday coming up. Maybe that’s the thing about life’s big moments—they remind us just how much we need the people who make us feel like we belong.


But if there’s one thing I’m learning, it’s that distance doesn’t erase real connections. The people who matter, who truly see you, will always find a way to stay close—through a message, a voice note, or even just a quiet moment of remembering.

So, to my friends near and far, scattered across time zones but never out of reach—thank you. I miss you. And no matter where life takes us, you will always have a place in my heart. 💙



© 2025 Lefitko. All Rights Reserved. Article written by Lenka Morgan-Warren



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