Sorry you're leaving. Nope, it's not that. Sad, a little, but only because I will miss them. I'm not sorry; I believe they're doing the right thing. I won't apologise for it.
With sympathy. Nope, that's not it either, obviously.
Congratulations on your new home! Well, that's a good sentiment but again it doesn't capture what I want to say. And anyway, that's the kind of thing you pick up en-route to a housewarming. This does not feel like a housewarming. This is my friends, Winners and Teebs, emigrating to another country, quite possibly for ever.
And I am... um... melancholebrating about it. Gosh Hemmingway makes making up words look easy. What I mean is I'm sad they're leaving (for us) and happy that they're doing what is right (for them).
And there wasn't a card for that.
In the end I chose a generic blank card with balloons on it and then wrote a lengthy poem for them. I explained that I hope it conveyed something that the card selection had failed to do.
My Grandma used to fill both sides of our birthday and Christmas cards with lines of biro. It was a running joke. As I looked tonight at the card in which I had written the best part of a small novel, I realised that I had done exactly the same.
But I know now the reason why. It's love, you see. Jesus said that the heart overflows and the mouth speaks. Well the pen writes what the card cannot say and today my heart was overwhelmed with love for my friends.
I will miss them greatly.
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