My mother is not very good at goodbyes. Actually, she is exceptional good with them. Long ones. Very long ones.
Here's one example from about five years ago--
Her niece Esther was again hosting a New Years party for family and friends. My mother was of course invited but told Rona and me not to come to pick her up to drive her there because as a 102-year-old she went to bed well before midnight.
When we told this to Esther, in her usual wonderful way, she said, "So let's have an early party. We'll do the countdown at 9:00 and after that you can take her home and she can get to bed at about her usual time."
My mother agreed to this but said, "Don't do this for me. If the young people want to have a party later in the evening I'm fine to stay home."
We assured her that we weren't any longer that young and would be happy not to have to stay up past midnight.
The party was joyous, so joyous that my mother, ignoring the clock and her normal bedtime, stayed on and on. So long, in fact, well past midnight, that Rona and I were wanting to leave so we could get to bed at close to our bedtime.
"Mom," I whispered to her, "It's getting late. Very late. I think you should say goodbye so we can drive you home."
She agreed, but clearly was not entirely happy. She was having that good a time and was full of amazing energy.
I sat down on the sofa, knowing she would not be done saying goodbye for at least a half-hour.
Well, that evening she outdid herself, saying goodbye to those still lingering until 2:00 in the morning!
She now is in the process of saying her final goodbye. It has taken her 107 years to get to it, but we know that she is down to her final days or even hours.
As I said, she is especially good at very, very long goodbyes.