My wife left me yesterday. It wasn’t entirely unexpected either. In fact, we both knew it was coming since she’d been talking about it for some time, so I let her go without putting up a fight. I must admit I am somewhat surprised that neither of us seemed all that sad or concerned when saying goodbye. We’ve been married for almost 30 years, for crying out loud, so you’d think my wife’s departure would have been quite the ordeal, yet in actuality it was a far cry from an emotional farewell. I suppose the missus leaving me really wasn’t that big of deal since my lovely wife will be back home, from a business convention in Vegas, tomorrow.
Saying goodbye isn’t as cut and dried as one might think. Bidding a fond adieu is actually a tricky concept. When saying goodbye to someone, we are not assured of ever seeing that person again. That’s a sobering thought, but it’s certainly true. We assume we’ll meet again in this lifetime, but no one is promised tomorrow. I have an aunt who routinely goes out of her way to say “see you later” instead of goodbye. I think her preferred choice of words is a superstitious attempt at fooling Mother Nature. I believe she’s even alluded to that in the past. To each their own.
The airport can be such a sad place, with countless goodbyes being said. On the other hand, the airport can be the happiest place on earth (no offense Disneyland). It’s a place where one can witness numerous reunions with loved ones, relieved embraces of military personnel returning from deployment, and an abundance of authentic ear to ear smiles. So much happiness can be found within the confines of an airport. I reckon train stations and bus stops evoke similar feelings although I’ve never experienced either of those places firsthand.
George Bailey, Jimmy Stewart’s beloved character in It’s A Wonderful Life, boasted that the three most exciting sounds in the world are “anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles.” I don’t doubt that is true, for those who are desiring to set out on a new journey, but that’s surely not the case for any loved ones left behind. In the summer of 2007, I had the mindset akin to that of George Bailey when my wife, my son, and I uprooted from Iowa, to Arizona. I longed for a new adventure – an opportunity to chart a different course – a chance to explore the unknown. I did not give a lot of thought at that time as to what my mother and father, or anyone else for that matter, might’ve been going through because I was solely focused on what was ahead…not on what was being left behind.
Remember when you were a kid, and your parents used to say once in awhile, or maybe quite frequently depending on the amount of grief you gave them, “just wait ’til you have kids of your own”? It was almost as though the people raising you were actually taking some comfort in their hopes of getting sweet revenge one day. Our folks were surely angry, frustrated, or disappointed when such statements were made. Regardless, as it turns out, I’ve recently found their ancient warnings to be profoundly correct. The shoe indeed is on the other foot. I’ll soon be experiencing what my parents were forced to experience when saying goodbye to them 10 years ago.
I can now fully empathize with my folks because after spending the past decade in Arizona, my son has decided to move back to Iowa. He has grown extremely weary of the desert sun and is looking forward to the Midwest’s changing seasons, rainstorms, and even the snow. His mother and I are very fond of Arizona’s sunny days, the dry heat, wearing shorts yearlong, and NO SNOW. We’re used to having our only child living just twenty-two minutes away from us, but soon he’ll be 1,187 miles away. I’m truly excited for my son. I admire his independence, as well as his courage to try another path, but I’m not too happy about saying goodbye. That’ll be a tough one.