What it’s like to say goodbye.

I just finished a trial.

And I feel sad.

Not because I didn’t like the verdict. But because I hate this part.

It’s time for goodbye.

For me, being a good trial lawyer means telling my client’s story with honesty and depth and detail.

By the time we get to trial, I’ve spent time in their homes, laughed at their corny jokes, cried with them, and gotten real REAL with them, so they can get real with me. I’ve walked in their footsteps, talked to their parents and children and friends. Learned what gets them out of bed each morning, what they live for, what they miss the most about their life before. I love them. We’ve known each other years. And we’ve just spent days or weeks together in an incredible stressful environment, telling their story, asking to be judged. We made it through battle together. And damn it, win or lose, we won.

And then we get a verdict. And we say goodbye. And it’s different.

It’s a lot like a break up. And there’s definitely a little bit of heartbreak. And it’s strangely anticlimactic to go through the litigation process, and then hug each other, and take two paths instead of one, heading in two separate directions. I go back to every day life. I drive my dogs to dog class. I see my friends. I go for a run. It’s strange, the shift. And it’s sudden.

I love hearing from clients after we part ways. Hearing that they’re doing well and that they have found closure and are moving forward. I still speak to all my clients I’ve gone to trial with. And it’s a great joy to see them live and grow after enduring not only a loss of health or limb or life, but after being brave enough to go through a trial. But I expect them to move on, and move forward and to live their best lives. And that usually doesn’t include your lawyer (ha!)

But still, it’s hard not to feel sad when we say goodbye. When we close a chapter. When we take those separate paths.