Departure Gate Goodbyes
The time when my family flies halfway around the world is drawing closer and closer. In fact, time seems to be doing that funny thing that it does – speeding up to meet a dreaded date, like an excited labrador who has spotted its owner across the other side of the park. And it doesn’t seem to matter how much I pull on its lead, time just refuses to slow down.
So now we’re getting into those logistical conversations about adaptor plugs and check-in times and those silly wee padlocks that you buy for holidays, and then promptly lose the keys on your return. And the question that keeps raising its head, and which I keep evading, is whether I’ll see them off at the airport.
And that’s because it breaks my heart to think about it.
You see, I know what it’ll be like. I’ve had departure gate goodbyes before. First of all there’s that nervous tension in the car, and the focus is generally on getting to the check-in desk on time, and running through a list of things in your head that you’re pretty sure you packed, but you really wish that you could just bust your suitcase open for a quick look-see. Occasionally a sad song might come on the radio and you briefly allow yourself to think of the immanent separation – a tear escapes from the corner of your eye and you swipe at it before anyone can see.
And then there’s the airport. Anxiously waiting in ridiculously long queues, tickets and passport clasped in hand, that list of things which may or may not have been left out of the packing process still whirling through your mind – anything to not think about the distance that’s about to spring up between you and your loved ones. A luke-warm cafe latte in a sterile Costa follows where the stilted conversation becomes almost intolerably exaggerated.
But it’s at security that you finally say goodbye, the x-ray machines framing the before and after: a physical doorway marking the time when you were with them, and the time when you were not.
What usually happens at this point is that I walk off to the gate and my family walks back to the short-stay car park. Because, my lovely, it’s usually me that is leaving.
While I was completing my phd, I attended many academic conferences to present my research, and quite a few of these were overseas. The times when I have had to say goodbye to my family at the airport, I have had the distraction of reading through my presentation, worrying about getting to the right gate and my own anxieties over flying (which are many). It has never been the other way around before.
So, I told my beloved and my kids over dinner last week that I didn’t think I’d be coming with them to the airport. That we’d just say goodbye at our apartment. I didn’t want to make them upset before they got on the plane and spoil the start of their big adventure. And besides, it would be awkward trying to get home from the airport on public transport.
My beloved put up a few good rebuttals to my argument but, practical to a fault, I knew I had him at the, as I put it, ‘unnecessary’ expense of public transport to get me back home again. The kids sat at the dinner table watching us, their eyes flicking from one parent to the other, as though they were watching a tennis match where their mother had just scored the winning cross-court shot.
Since then, particularly when I’m least expecting it, one of the kids will bring it up. My youngest will slip his hand into mine, as we navigate the aisles of the supermarket searching for some random grocery, and say, ‘I wish you were coming to the airport, Mummy.’ Or I’ll be helping my daughter add mp3 files to her iPod Nano, and she’ll ask, ‘Are you sure you’re not coming with us to the airport?’ Or we’ll be sitting on the bus heading to drama class and my eldest son will lean his head on my shoulder, and say, ‘You could always just get the bus home from the airport.’
Every time my heart clenches up, squeezing so tight that my whole chest feels rigid with the longing to just keep them here with me.
And then there’s my beloved. We’ve said goodbye a number of times and every time I’ve felt that my heart was tearing itself in two. It’s almost as though I’ve stitched some essential part of myself to the palms of his hands, so that the only time I feel truly at home is when he is touching me.
I had thought I’d made up my mind. A nice clean break. I’d get the kids up in the morning. Give them their breakfast. Check their flight bags, maybe adding in a surprise treat or two for them to find later. A quick rush of hugs and kisses and then they would go. The front door would bang shut and I could fall apart on the other side, the wrong side, as noisily as I needed to.
But now… well, now I’m not sure. I’ve been offered a lift home from the airport from friends, so my whole practical argument has crumbled. My beloved and the kids want me to be there. And, to be honest, I don’t know if I can give up the last hours, minutes, seconds I have to share with them before they go.
I keep telling myself not to be so bloody pathetic – that they’re only going away for a holiday – not forever. I tell myself that I should be happy they’re getting such an amazing opportunity, and that it’ll be lovely for them to connect with the other half of their family. I tell myself to toughen up and stop being so ridiculous. As you can probably tell, my inner critic is a hard ass who takes no prisoners.
I’m hoping this stoic part of myself, the part that speaks to me of strength and resilience, will get me through this airport goodbye without embarrassing my children by turning into a snotty sobbing mess. I’m not so sure, but you can but hope.
23 Comments
Miss P.
Aww (hug) airport goodbyes are awfully hard. I hate them too, no matter on what side I am of the gate. And then for the inner critic to be so loud and noisy. Ts ts.
Amy
Lol – I think by definition inner critics are loud & noisy – or maybe that’s just mine…
Amy
xx
Julie
Shall I bring the fair trade eco friendly tissues 😉 xxx
Amy
Yes, please!
Amy
xx
Nikki
Sound like you’ve made your mind up. Isn’t it always so hard sometimes to do the right thing, firstly for yourself and then for your loved ones?? Also how when you think you have made the decision, finally set it to rest, other things come in to make you question them again??
Sending you hugs and support xxx
Amy
Yeah, I’ve been all round the houses trying to make my mind up on this one. I may change my mind yet!
Amy
xx
Lindsay
Glad to know you’ll be there Julie .. maybe get an outer pack of those tissues 😉
Amy darling, snot is one of the most sacred fluids, especially accompanied by heartfelt tears … will be there in spirit with you all, wish them a fantastic adventure for me xxx
Amy
Lol – think the phrase ‘snot is one of the most sacred fluids’ has just become my new favourite! Love you!
Amy
xx
Annabel
You do NOT need to toughen up and you are NOT being ridiculous! Your feelings are your feelings and, whatever they are, that’s ok!!
It’s completely understandable that you feel this way – they are going a long way for a long time and, as you’ve said, you’ve never been the one left behind before (and I agree that’s harder than being the one going). My response is, why WOULDN’T you feel like this?!!
If you do go to the airport, instead of going home straight afterwards, why don’t you go and do something nice for you? I don’t mean to delay the inevitable of going back to an empty house, but just to start off the time in a positive way, by setting the precendent that this is a time where you get to spend some time with yourself. It might help you breathe a bit easier and calmer when you do set your feet back over the threshold later in the day. xxxx
Amy
It’s funny how we seem to think it’s ok to talk to ourselves in such unkind ways, isn’t it? I would never dream of telling someone else to toughen up, and yet it seems completely natural to say it to myself. Think I might explore this a bit further over the summer – kindness to one’s own self.
And yes, love the idea of starting the summer off in positive way. Will start planning now 🙂
Amy
xx
Sophie Nicholls
Oh, lovely Amy, I feel this with you. I don’t think you’re the least bit ‘pathetic.’ How wonderful that your family shares and creates all this love.
And I was thinking, maybe this goodbye actually doesn’t need to go the way of that film you’re running in your head? After all, as you say, you’re sending them off with all the love in your heart on a wonderful, exciting adventure – and you’re also beginning an adventure of your own. What an amazing gift to give them – and yourself!
Much love to you.
Amy
You are completely right, Sophie – I have concocted this whole film of how everything is going to play out – how much more positive and pro-active to change the script and rewrite it as a wonderful adventure.
Think I’m going to try doing some visualizations around this…
Amy
xx
Jackie Walker
I was brought up on goodbyes – I went to boarding school. They don’t get any easier, and I’ve never managed a goodbye without snot and tears. And as Lindsay says, they’re good snot and tears, they prove what your family means to you. It’s not something to be sniffed away, it needs to be felt, acknowledged and held up as a trophy 😉
What I’ve learned over all these 40 years of regularly departing, is that I’m just as bad when it’s meeting up time all over again!!!
If you want a practice session, come with me on Friday 😉 xxx
Amy
Lol – I’ll probably be just as bad when you leave my flat on Friday!!
Amy
xx
Sabrina
You remind me of those painful goodbyes when I leave my family. I always feel as if I am swallowing golf balls as I am walking with my husband to go through security. Thank goodness for the joy that I get when I see him again!
Amy
Gosh, that image of swallowing golf balls is so evocative – I know just what you mean!
And yes, I’m looking forward to the joy of welcoming them all home again 🙂
Amy
xx
Jackie Walker
May I indulge for another comment please? I’m leaving to go to New Zealand on Friday. I’ve just written my girls a letter each to tell them how much I love them. It’s broken my heart, open, to do so. Although I wasn’t due to see them anyway, the distance feels like distance. I remember though that there’s the moon in the sky, the same moon I’ve looked at every night for the 6 years we’ve been apart. I’ll keep looking and knowing they can see it too.
Amy
Lol – Jackie, you’re welcome to share as many comments here as you please!
I just love that you wrote your girls letters – I think I’m going to do the same. And you’re so right about the moon – so beautiful.
Amy
xx
Joanna Paterson
Oh Amy, I’m there at Edinburgh airport with you, the description is so vivid. You’ve thrown me back to the time I took my son to that airport, when he was setting off for a long holiday, travelling along with his dad and partner and small child (his half-brother) who were setting of to the other side of the world not for a holiday, but to start a new life. Ouch. Still hurts.
Back to you. I think you need to go the airport. Otherwise I think you’ll be left feeling you’ll have missed a bit somehow.
Have a good cry once you get back home.
And then… breathe, and adjust.
Wishing you much love, and you too lovely Jackie x
Pingback:
Raven
Oh, Amy, I have definitely been that slobbering, sobbing mess in the airport. The thing about an airport is that it’s not unusual. People are cheering & crying & laughing because there are many others in the same boat of leaving or being left. (The opening scene of Love Actually comes to mind.) Anyway, if your family wants you there & the only reason you’re not going is the messiness, then go anyway. You might not cry until later or they might cry too, but it’ll be a moment you all share in your hearts for later either way. And it sounds like you will feel badly if you don’t go. It might be messy, but will be full of love, which is worth it.
clare mc cann
Oh Amy, Your blog touched me so deeply I’m sitting here with the tears running down my cheeks remembering all my losses and goodbyes. I know you will be fine and it sounds that your family will have a lovely trip. Thank you for directing me to roots of she it’s a wonderful site. I love all my new girlfriends who contribute to it with wise words. Much Love Clarex
Pingback: