Writing about good-byes? Passage and details included?

I'm attempting to write the opening of a story that speaks about what good-byes make you feel. Sometimes they're easy, casual. You can just turn around. Other times you're fine right up until those moments when you actually have to speak those two words and suddenly you get that choking feeling in your throat. Sometimes you say good bye and its easy but as you watch them leave, or leave yourself it just hits you hard or its suddenly hard to be walking away. Sometimes people say things to you that in that moment are out of context (i.e. a warning) and you're just wondering if you should be leaving in the first place.

I'll include what I've written--and trust me, I know it's god awful. It's something I wrote a long time ago and only just recently found and decided to come back to so its had no editing since the day I wrote it. For a little background, she's going off to school and times around the country and the world are tense (not necessarily WW2 but you know that kind of scary tension) and her parents are kind of feeling that she won't be safe without them, so they make her promise things like not going alone anywhere, and writing them every week even though this isn't the first time she's left them.

They say good-byes are hard. I say any good-bye is hard. We can become so close with another living and breathing human being there is hardly a memory of how it came to be that way. So well we know them that they just become a part of us, a center we didn't know we had. A center that makes us crumble when it's taken away from us. Gone is our center, no matter the time span, its gone. We aren't whole. We're missing them, even when we don't realize it. Sometimes the difficulty of a good-bye hardly registers; an easy pass-off. Maybe we just haven't realized the impact in our lives they've had, or the good-bye was for them and not for us.

Come looking for me, and you’ll find me on a train platform walking away from a good-bye. I wandered through the crowd, making my way towards the train through the random openings between people. Progress was slow, but I was ok with it. All I could think about was the lingering good-bye I just had with my parents. The serious tones and finality of the requests they made had only served to confuse me. I felt that I made promises to them not knowing what I was promising.

I climbed onto the train near its dark scarlet head, still lost in thought. As I passed through the front part of the corridor I was snapped from thought at the sound of the train’s whistle. I snapped my head sharply to the right and saw out the window in the first compartment I was next to. Almost immediately I found my mother and father standing close by, tucked into each others arms. As the train gave another call, I watched my father wipe a tear from her eye and speak something into her ear. She nodded and smiled and wiped the tear from her eye. As if they knew exactly where I was their eyes found me standing near the window. The train gave its final whistle and I moved quickly to be in front of the window, to wave back to my parents. It seemed like no time at all before the train was out of the station and I couldn’t see them any more. Not knowing what to do I stayed in front of the window, my arm still stuck in the last wave.