You say goodbye....I say hello

A simple pleasure in life is picking up a loved one at the airport.
A complex pain in life is dropping them off at the airport.

It's not about the time of day or day of the week that inspires this post.  It's about recognizing the unexpected changes that dangle in front of you when loved ones live far away.  For me, it is having two brothers who live 5000 miles away - one on Maui and one on Big Island.  It is also about my daughter living 300 miles away at college.

The brother closest to me in age, Vincent, moved to Maui on November 1, 1978.  At the time, it was as though he was heading toward another planet. (In an effort to describe her feelings about Vincent's long distance move, my mother stated, "I hope you have children who move to Australia!" She then paused, dissatisfied that her point was not pointed enough and changed the destination: "Not Australia - To Mars!") Vincent tried to relate his move with that of our grandparents who came here from Italy in the early 20th century.  That did not, as they say, play in Peoria with my mom. 

Vincent was just shy of his 25th birthday at the time, so he has lived on Maui much longer than he did on the mainland.  I think I can say with confidence that he is staying. 

I drove him to the airport back then and recall feeling simultaneously exhilarated for him and awful for myself. I had graduated from college just a few months earlier and was upset that my expectation of spending more time with him was being squashed. I don't recall the actual goodbye at the airport or whether I stood at the gate (ah, remember those days) and waited for the plane to take off.  The searing memory for me is returning to my parents' house and seeing them crumble into tears as I walked in the door without Vincent. Talk about reality TV!  I often remind my brother he owes me one for that emotional wreckage.

My older brother, Joe, landed on the Big Island in 2000 after several years of wanderlust travel, post divorce.  I struggled to get my footing with his departure (and divorce) as well, partially because I struggled with him living so far from his incredible girls and partially because he was leaving me, too.  It took me a long time to understand that I was profoundly sad for myself.  Here was another older brother whom I treasured blowing out of Dodge.  The fact that it was also to a tremendously exotic new home sure added some spice. My life is richer because both of my brothers continue to share their lives with me and my family.  I've learned it is a simple continuation of what they did years ago when I was the pesty little sister who always wanted to be part of whatever they were doing.

I have experienced some splendid vacations in our 50th state with the added bonus of sharing it with each of my lovely brothers and, eventually, their families.  I have often said they doubled the chances of receiving visitors due to their home locations. And the once exotic long distance phone call has been trumped by today's much improved "reach out and touch" social network technology - another bonus.

However, for the real-life connection, a trip to or from the airport takes me back to my original thought.  I have written about the equal joy that anticipation brings to realization. http://asubjectforconsideration.blogspot.com/2011/07/vacation-expectation-anticipation.html  Driving to the airport to pick up either of my brothers oozes with glorious anticipation.  One voice tries to mollify my feelings with "You know, they are going to leave again."  I ignore it.  This is my moment to live in the moment. It never, ever disappoints.  

Would I like my brothers to live close by?  Definitely.
But I don't know that I would trade it for the moments we've spent together in Hawaii or here. When we visit each other, we really appreciate the time together because every moment counts. I've learned much about myself in their absence as I temper feelings of being abandoned.  Understanding their choices has come slowly but steadily.

As I rode to the airport to pick up my oldest daughter, Alison, last Friday night, a Christmas morning excitement buzzed through me.  It took some self control to not dance in place as I waited for her to appear. I reveled in all the 'candy' of the moment. Sweet indeed.  Sunday night arrived so quickly.  I find myself getting cranky even after we've enjoyed a full, long skype session because the reality of her being gone slams into me again. So, a visit home has even a stronger down side when the return trip to the airport must be made.  (Of course, she insists we drop her off at the departure curb because she does not need us to check in. Whatever.)

Photo by Idea Go of Free Digital Photos

I spoke with a friend this weekend who is anticipating her eldest child's departure for college next year. She expressed her anxiety over his leaving home and how she wants to spend this year with him. I dreaded my daughter's departure. It's hard to admit using this word but, for me, it felt like a kind of death occurred.  I am acutely aware and grateful that my child is alive, but the loss of something precious was profound. My 'mommy' time with Ali was making its biggest, and most necessary, leap yet.  To use the word death made me really understand that something had to end for the next thing to begin. 

I had to view her departure in a dark way so I could face it with no pretense.  I guess I gave myself some tough love.  Surprisingly, it opened up some necessary space in me to appreciate the emerging adult she is becoming. I guess we are both growing up in different ways.

These growing pains showed up at the airport when, to my surprise, there were no tears at the dreaded curbside goodbye.

Well, this time, anyway.