The hardest word
Sunday, August 2nd, 2009When you have already said goodbye to your nearest and dearest for an extended period of time, you would think it makes it easier to do a second time. Wrong.
Instead, what happens is, for the last few days before separation, it’s all you can think about. If you do manage a few sweet moments of relief, the big fat ‘goodbye’ hanging over your head just returns with even more of a crash. So the days before we flew, along with the general panicky feeling of ‘have I done everything?’ were lived with a sinking, nauseous feeling in my stomach.
I’d just about managed to hold it together, even through the wrench of saying goodbye to most of my family and friends, and even through the emotions of the Lourdes mass I went to that morning with mum. However, on getting to Manchester airport, it was the face of my lovely cousin Claire-Louise that got us all going. I was meeting Andy at Heathrow (he’d had many, many instructions as to just how early to turn up), so for the first leg, I was by myself. And never have I felt more alone than when I said goodbye to Kian, Gabi, Claire-Louise, Aunty Rosemary, Uncle Mike, and Mum and walked through the departure gate. I won’t even pretend that I remotely held it together, instead I sobbed in an undignified fasion through security, through a cup of tea at Costa, and through the first flight, leaving Manchester for I don’t know how long.
Luckily, the Jones siblings had heeded my warnings of the terrible things that would happen to them if they were late, so I didn’t have long to wait before they all turned up, all looking green around the gills at the thought of their own goodbye that was now looming. As tough as it was saying goodbye, it was lovely to see Paul and Cerys, and to bid them farewell for now.
All the goodbyes over with, Andy and I made a pact – we would sit and feel sad for the length of time it took for one drink and to read all our farewell cards from our family and friends, but after that, we would go through to departures, and from that point our adventure had begun. And that’s what we did. One last time for crying and feeling blue, reading all the lovely messages of support, and then onwards and upwards, to a glass of bubbly and allowing the true excitement of what we were doing to fall on us for the first time.
Distance doesn’t separate family and friends, the last trip has taught me that for sure. It’s what’s in my heart that counts, and my heart will carry you all around the world with me.
Suzanne