Brimming with tears, I breath them away.
Saying goodbye is never any fun (unless of course I am real excited to get the H away). Saying goodbye to old family friends – ones, in another lifetime, referred to as ‘uncle’ and ‘auntie’, is especially not much fun. It is inevitably a sad moment when your much anticipated vacation comes to an end and it’s time to get your ass to the airport. However, when you have to finally depart from warm, lush Miami to head back to snow-on-the-ground Toronto and say goodbye to friends you haven’t seen in 20 years? Bring on the feels. *sniffle*
Our last night on the boat a friend in accented English shares that he is feeling nostalgic. While I think he meant he was feeling sentimental, I caught his meaning and related to it. Tis hard letting go.
Sometimes the tears take me by surprise, and on this particular occasion, in the hug of the Jordan’s backyard and hospitality, my eyes well up. Thoughts of my father’s mother, Etty Schuilenga, affectionately known to my cousins and siblings as Oma, enter my mind. She was a very sentimental woman. And, in the way back when my grandparents were often tasked with picking us up from Pearson after not having seen us for the past year, and dropping us off at the end of our stay Oma’s tears would bookend our airport trips. Arrival gate vs departure gate, it made no difference. It warms my heart thinking of her in these moments – her tears run in my blood, or as the case may be, her tears leak out my eyeballs.