It's time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad and I'd

In the tender and reflective words of Ernie Harwell, one of baseball’s most beloved voices, there is a wisdom that speaks far beyond the field: “It’s time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad and I’d much rather say hello. Hello to a new adventure.” These words, spoken near the twilight of his life, shimmer with both melancholy and hope. They are the words of a man who had seen the passing of seasons—of victories and farewells—and yet chose to greet the unknown not with fear, but with wonder. In them lives a timeless truth: that every ending is but a hidden beginning, and every goodbye carries within it the seed of a new hello.

Ernie Harwell, the legendary announcer of the Detroit Tigers, spent more than half a century giving voice to America’s game. He witnessed thousands of moments of triumph and heartbreak, beginnings and endings—players rising to glory and fading into memory. When he spoke this line during his farewell address in 2002, he was not just leaving the broadcast booth; he was reflecting on the nature of life itself. To him, every inning and every season mirrored the human journey—each chapter closing only to give way to another. And so, even as he said goodbye, he looked forward with courage and curiosity, choosing to see life as an adventure without end.

The ancients would have understood this deeply. To the philosophers of old, every transition in life was not a loss, but a transformation. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “Loss is nothing but change, and change is nature’s delight.” To say farewell, then, is not to mourn what was, but to honor its place in the great cycle of becoming. Ernie Harwell’s words echo this Stoic wisdom: though goodbyes stir sorrow, they are not to be feared, for they open the door to what comes next. Life, like the seasons of the earth, is ever-renewing, and those who cling too tightly to the past miss the beauty of the unfolding future.

There is a story from the life of Helen Keller that illuminates this same truth. When she lost her sight and hearing as a child, her world seemed to end—darkness replaced light, silence replaced sound. Yet through the love and persistence of her teacher, Anne Sullivan, Helen learned to say “hello” again—not with her eyes or ears, but with her spirit. What began as tragedy became the start of an extraordinary journey, one that led her to touch the hearts of millions. Her life was living proof that even when something precious is taken away, a new kind of vision awaits those who are willing to embrace it.

In Harwell’s words we also find a quiet lesson about gratitude. To say goodbye is indeed sad, but sadness itself is a sign that something beautiful was once held. Those who feel sorrow in parting are those who have loved deeply and lived fully. Yet Harwell reminds us that gratitude must outweigh grief—that rather than mourning what is gone, we must give thanks that it was ever ours. His phrase “hello to a new adventure” is not denial—it is reverence. It is the wisdom of one who has learned to bow to the rhythm of life, to let each ending be a blessing in disguise.

From this truth arises a sacred lesson: face each farewell with grace, and greet each new beginning with courage. When life asks you to release what you love—be it a place, a person, or a dream—do not cling in fear. Say “thank you” for the journey that was, and then lift your gaze toward the horizon. There, beyond the ache of parting, another path awaits—different, perhaps, but no less divine. Every goodbye is merely the world whispering, “There is more for you to see.”

So, O listener, when your time comes to bid farewell—to a season, a chapter, or a beloved dream—remember the words of Ernie Harwell. Do not dwell on the sadness of parting, but look forward with the heart of an explorer. Say not only “goodbye,” but also “hello”—hello to growth, to renewal, to the eternal adventure that is life itself. For though the curtain falls, the play continues, and every ending, if met with faith, becomes the dawn of a greater beginning.