A man never knows how to say goodbye; a woman never knows when

Hear the voice of Helen Rowland, whose wit pierced through the veils of love and folly alike: “A man never knows how to say goodbye; a woman never knows when to say it.” In these words lies both humor and truth, for Rowland spoke not only of the manners of men and women but of the eternal dance of attachment and release. The saying is light in form, yet heavy in meaning, for it speaks of the human struggle to part, the reluctance of the heart to let go, and the differing ways men and women often face the inevitable farewell.

The man, Rowland says, does not know how to utter the word of parting. His tongue falters, his pride resists, his spirit clings to silence rather than admit the finality of goodbye. His strength in other matters becomes weakness here, for words of ending weigh heavier than swords. The woman, on the other hand, knows well how to speak farewell, yet often she does not know when. Her heart lingers, her hope delays, her compassion hesitates. She sees the signs of departure but waits, as though love might yet bloom again. Thus, she tarries beyond the hour, and her goodbye comes later than wisdom would counsel.

Consider the tale of Antony and Cleopatra. Antony, torn between duty and passion, never found the right words to part from his queen, even as Rome demanded it. His hesitation bound him, and his downfall followed. Cleopatra, though keen in mind, did not know when to say farewell either. She clung until ruin was certain, and in the end, her goodbye was not spoken in time but written in death. Their tragedy is the echo of Rowland’s words: man unable to speak, woman unable to decide the hour.

But contrast this with the story of Eleanor Roosevelt. When her marriage faltered, she did not dwell endlessly in hesitation. She found her own voice and her own path, saying farewell not only with words but with deeds. Yet she did not delay until her life withered; she embraced a new life of service and leadership. Here we see that strength lies not in silence nor in delay, but in the courage to say farewell both clearly and timely.

Rowland’s wit unveils a deeper truth: farewells are the crucibles of love and life. To part well is an art, requiring both clarity and timing. Too soon, and love is wounded; too late, and the soul is trapped in bitterness. The difficulty lies not only in what to say, but when to say it. This is why men stumble and women linger, and why humanity as a whole struggles with the art of goodbye.

What lesson, then, must you take? First, recognize that farewell is not defeat, but completion. To say goodbye is to honor what has been while allowing life to move forward. Second, do not fear the word itself. Learn from men’s silence, and speak clearly when parting is needed. Third, learn from women’s hesitation, and discern the right moment. Do not linger in what has already ended, nor turn away before a bond has fulfilled its purpose.

Practical actions lie before you: when you feel the stirring of farewell, pause and ask yourself, “Am I silent out of fear? Am I delaying out of hope that blinds me?” If the answer is yes, summon courage. Speak what must be spoken, neither too early nor too late. Write farewells not in bitterness but in gratitude, and step forward into new beginnings with dignity.

Thus remember Rowland’s wisdom: men falter in how, women falter in when. Learn from both, and master the art of parting. For he who knows how to say goodbye, and she who knows when, walk through life with freedom, carrying no chains of regret, but only the memory of love honored in its season.