Today, I took some folks to the airport. They were leaving behind their two-year-old for the first time. There was a huge struggle to be brave-a struggle for the parents. The two-year-old was fine. He had been well-prepared for his parents' departure so he took it in stride. It brought back memories of other departures in my life.
I remember the first time I left my son. He was ten months old. We went to St. Louis to see baseball games between the Cardinals and the Cubs. 4 games, count them, 4 games in 3 days. Yep, I was blessed with a double-header the last day. Actually, I read Ken Follett's The Eye of the Needle throughout the entire double-header. I needed an escape. But, I digress. The anxious state in which I left would have discouraged a weaker man, as Mr. L had planned this trip for a little get-away. Very thoughtful, but I am sure there were moments he regretted putting forth the effort.
First of all, this was the first time I had ever flown anywhere in a big plane. My dad had a friend named Mr. Butts (giggle, giggle) who, periodically on Sunday afternoons, flew us in his little private plane just around Nashville. I enjoyed any activity with my dad so I always went when asked, even though I was terrified, and barfed every single time upon landing. So, not being very aviation savvy, I had no idea how a big plane stayed in the air, and I was certain we were going to die on the trip. When we were called to board, I felt like a "dead man walking." I think that emotion is a contributor to the visceral reaction I have to the death penalty. All was fine, but 35 years later I still feel queasy when I recall that departure.
I remember our departure when we left MP at UGA. We moved furniture, rearranged pencils in her pencil holder, folded, re-folded clothes, any task to delay our departure. I literally, and I do mean literally, felt physically ill as we said our good-byes. I thought I would not be able to actually walk out of there to the car. Somehow, I managed, and Mr. L and I, through many tears, drove home. 4 years later I sat in the car in a Publix parking lot about to experience yet another departure from MP. She had graduated college, worked a year, and was embarking on a new adventure in the Everglades working with at-risk boys. She would not be home for Thanksgiving, and possibly not Christmas. It was, if memory serves, a three year commitment. She and I both remember it as one of the worst days of our lives. As an aside, the job and lack of safety were severely misrepresented, and she reluctantly and wisely quit and came home. Now that was a joyful reunion!!!
About three weeks after MP left for UGA, Marshall left for Colorado to work on a ranch. We took him to the airport. That was when you could still accompany loved ones to the gate and wait until they departed. We asked all the questions over and over, " do you have this, did you remember that, do you need any more money, etc..." At last, the dreaded announcement that his flight was boarding. I believe we waited until his plane taxied away from the gate. I am fairly certain that anyone who passed us in the airport thought we had just put the dead bodies of all our relatives on that plane for no one would be weeping so if they had just sent someone on an adventure to Colorado. Not long after he returned from Colorado, Marshall went to Atlanta. Oh, why must there be so many departures? Just come home and stay! Well, in a manner of speaking, they both have, and I am very happy about that.
When the Davises moved to Minneapolis. Oh, my goodness, I was so blue. Their last 4th of July here, we went to their house to watch Richland Country Club's fireworks. They lived in the perfect spot for heightened enjoyment of the spectacle. Their house was full of boxes. All the things that made that house their home were now packed away. Beth had great snacks for us. I choked them down past my sadness. Every minute seemed so precious as the time of departure was upon us. I rode to Minneapolis with Beth and the girls because Rick was already there working. I remember when they took me to the airport for me to return to Nashville, I told Beth, "do not get out of the car, do not hug me. " I tearfully departed. We have had many great reunions and somber departures since then. It always helps when we have a date set in the future for our next reunion.
So, departures of all sorts are very difficult. Departures have been on my mind today. Now, onward, for the next four days, I have a wonderful little sidekick to keep me busy. I will probably cry when he departs and goes home...across the street. I know, I know. That is ridiculous. I am forever grateful that my precious ones live in the same town as Fizzie and I.
For today, I wish you a reunion for every departure, and I wish you
Blessings
