"People milled around, waiting to board a flight leaving for Los Angeles from my sister's arrival gate. One group stood right in
front of me, an older man saying goodbye to his daughter and her family. I tried not to eavesdrop, but something in
their body language drew me to their conversation.
“I’ll miss you Dad.”
“I’ll miss you too, my darling.” He hugged his daughter tightly, closing his
eyes. He pulled back and touched her
shoulder length brown hair.
“I really wish you would think
about flying out to see us this summer.
It’s not a long trip. You can
stay a month or longer if you like.”
“I’ll think about it.” Her father
smiled a placating smile that only a parent can pull off. I had seen that look on my own father’s face.
“Think about it, please. We are
hoping to come back for the holidays,” she added, trying to make him feel
better.
“That will be wonderful.” The
sadness in his words said it all. For
him, being alone, it was a long time from May to the Christmas holidays.
An announcement to board their plane interrupted the conversation.
“Oh Dad, I hate to leave you.
Please fly out and visit us.” She hugged him, tears filling her eyes.
“I’ll think about it, my dear.
Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” he whispered, the grief of her leaving
etched in his lined face.
“We have to go.” She kissed him,
touched his cheek, and then, grabbed the hands of the children while her
husband embraced the older man. Seconds
later, the family ran down the passage way, waving back to where he stood. They were gone, the door closed, and he and I
were there alone, in what felt like a total vacuum. The life and vitality that filled the room only
moments before had been sucked out. Even
I felt it.
The plane taxied away from the door.
He stood in front of the large
plate glass window. I sat behind
him. He watched for his daughter’s plane
to take off; I waited for my sister’s plane to arrive, both lost in our own
thoughts.
A few minutes later, the huge LA bound airplane lifted off the runway in
front of us. He knew it was her
airplane. Without thinking, he reached up
his hand and touched the aircraft through the glass as the plane fought its way
up, higher and higher - a final contact, the final embrace with a child as she
flew away.
In that one moment, the poignant tableau of a father trying to connect
with his daughter one last time touched me so that even though he had been in
my presence for all of ten minutes, his words and actions stayed with me to
this day. I often wonder if his daughter
knew how much her father loved her and missed her as soon as she was out of his
sight. Did she know how much her leaving
hurt him, how he couldn’t let her go, yet did?
The sorrow of the loss of my own father surfaced. I have learned over time to keep the sadness
of living without my Dad locked away.
Yet, this day, this father and daughter interchange unlocked it
all. I yearned for one last goodbye
moment, like the one I had witnessed. I
hadn’t had that. One minute he was there
– the next minute he was gone.
I wanted him to see me like this father saw his daughter, a grown woman
with children of her own. I craved to
see the love on this stranger’s face for his daughter on my father’s face for
me as he touched my face and hair – once more.
I wished for things I couldn’t have."
I don't think that I can add much to this... till,
Judi
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