A Toast to What’s Leaving and What’s Left Behind

Attending a happy hour for a colleague who’s leaving can feel like a bittersweet ordeal. On one hand, there’s the undeniable excitement for them as they step into a new chapter with a brighter future at a better company. You can’t help but feel a sense of happiness for their success and the opportunities ahead. But on the other hand, you’re stuck in a room full of people you barely interact with day-to-day, making forced small talk and trying to navigate awkward silences with coworkers who, in the grand scheme of things, feel like strangers.

The only real connection you have with them is the person who’s leaving and even that feels complicated. The conversations you’d rather avoid now revolve around superficial pleasantries about the transition, as you try to fill the space with conversation that doesn’t really matter but feels necessary. What should be a joyful occasion becomes an uncomfortable reminder that sometimes, it’s easier to stay distant than to force connection with those who don’t truly resonate with you.

As if the moment wasn’t already emotionally layered, in walk a few familiar faces, former coworkers who left months or even years ago. They're back for the celebration, ghosts of goodbyes past, reopening wounds you thought had already healed. Their presence reminds you how often you've had to say goodbye, how many times you've patched up your spirit just to keep showing up.

Now, here they are again, smiling and reminiscing, and all you can think is, I miss them too. You find yourself mourning multiple losses at once, what’s leaving, what’s long gone, and the hollow space that remains.

The two hours drag on, each minute filled with that strange tension of not truly belonging but being unable to leave because you would rather not let go of the one person in the room who you do connect with, the person who made the job bearable, the one whose presence made work feel less like work. It’s difficult to ignore the mix of emotions. There’s pride for them moving on, a touch of sadness for the void they’ll leave behind, and the quiet longing to be anywhere else but here, with people who may never truly understand what made your working relationship so special. The departure is not just a goodbye to a colleague but to a little bit of the camaraderie that made the daily grind feel less lonely.

In the end, you leave the happy hour not feeling pleased at all. There’s no closure, just a dull ache of knowing that things will never quite be the same and that this awkward, half-hearted gathering wasn’t enough to honor the real value of the person you’ll miss the most.