Leaving York - a love letter

Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
    "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."
- A Valediction Forbidding Mourning, John Donne

Yet shall the end be so glorious that angels durst not hope for so great a one till they had seen it.
-Centuries of Meditation, Thomas Traherne

It's easier to leave than to be left behind
Leaving was never my proud

- Leaving New York, R.E.M.

This is my last day in York and I'm looking back at almost three wonderful months of learning, travel, meeting new friends and interesting people and of course the English spring. As so often is the case, however, I did not get around to do all the things I had hoped to do prior to my stay, but I have also experienced many things I had not planned, things which have expanded my horizon and hopefully made me a better human in one way or another. Mostly I owe this to my flatmates of Constantine House who have welcomed me very warmly and included me in some of their delightful shenanigans; who have taught me things that are invaluable and also things that are slightly less so. I will sorely miss their company. 

Endings are seldom easy although they can go smoothly and be void of trouble, maybe even to such an extent one secretly wishes for some delay to occur that will lengthen the stay. Having spent most of my afternoon packing, unpacking and repacking, vacuuming and tidying up, the gravity of the situation has not yet dawned on me as the day flew past in a blur of dust, accumulated goods and emotional farewells. As I waved goodbye to some of my friends - who for the occasion kindly served as my baggage carriers - I gradually started to realise what I was leaving behind, what transition it will be once I'm back on Norwegian soil. 

This is therefore a love letter to all my wonderful friends whom I have been fortunate to call my flatmates for the past three months, who have made my stay such a pleasant experience and who will always remain in some of my fondest memories. For all you have given me I am truly grateful. 

I'm writing this at a hotel in Manchester and Monday morning will be my last day on British soil for at least quite some time. However, there are still numerous experiences from my stay I would like to share with all my two readers, so I will continue to update this blog throughout the spring. 

 

Dragged half-unnerved out of this worldly place,

Crying to the end "I have not finished". 

- Funeral Music, Geoffrey Hill