There isn't an instruction manual on how to say goodbye. Okay, there are probably dozens and dozens of manuals in the form of self-help books, so... I guess that's that! See ya!
Wait. I don't want to say see ya just yet. But I have to. I have to? When did I decide that I have to move on, to move out, to move towards something... else? What is this something else? And am I asking question after question in an attempt to lose myself in a labyrinth of uncertainty? Except you don't get lost in a labyrinth. You wander. And I'm not going to get "lost" when I move. I am wandering, wondering what will come next and bracing myself for the whatever, the not-quite-yet-lit corners and unpaved paths. And dammit, that's brave. It's brave to me. It's brave for me. Define bravery for yourself, but for me this is it.
Well (cracks knuckles), I must have added some drama to my coffee. Yes sir, I've been known to be a tad overly dramatic for a solid 31 years now. I'm just moving 40 or so miles away. It's a stepping stone. It's normal. This is what people my age (and younger) (and older) (so therefore all people) do. And anywhere you go, you find your new comforts, your new routines, your new way of doing things. The new then becomes the old, or rather the familiar. You wear this new life like a pair of boots. Reliable, well-traveled, and hopefully waterproof. Eventually even the sturdiest shoes will wear down and holes will show up overnight. That's okay. They had a good run.
But you don't leave your past in your past. It follows you like a shadow and sometimes it's even that good luck rock in your pocket. You existed in places and people before and you exist in them even when you're gone (except that you're not really gone).
Leave the manual behind, you won't need it. It was never even published in the first place. Just bring your boots and your shadow. You've got this.