I always planned to return to the notes diary I kept when we went to Pearl Harbor in 1998. It wasn't a daily diary, but an occasional posting of personally significant moments recorded in the old fashioned way, in a spiral bound notebook in pen or pencil. I like the feel of writing on paper. Sometimes, late at night, I'd pick up the notebook and pen, and I'd write in the dim light from the nightlight in our master bath. It shines ever so slightly on my side of the bed. The writing is sometimes slanted, sometimes somewhat illegible, but it's tactile, and there's no light from a screen to wake Sean beside me or to burn my eyes as I open a laptop.
The week before departure is an interesting one. It very much seems normal, but my mind keeps wondering why. Still, everyone is a little tenser. We snap a little faster. Keren & Jesse show the most visible signs. Gavi's nature just has everything roll of his back.
Funny how we left the packing to the last minute. I'm blaming the Hagim. That works. Hopefully we got everything, but we won't know until we leave. I wonder at the wisdom of a trip immediately after Sean leaves, but the bar mitzvah is scheduled, and I wouldn't miss it for anything.
The morning of departure was so much better than I'd thought. No tears at the house; no fighting to get out of bed; no nudging each other, just good stuff. Tears at the airport were a different thing. Keren was first. She's been crying on and off for the past month. This was no different. No hysterics, just a quiet cry with, "I don't want you to go." This time it had a new effect, Sean began to cry. In 20 years of knowing my husband, I've only seen him cry twice. We did kisses and hugs all around, accompanied by tears. For the two of us a sweet kiss and an "I love you." There's little to say. We know each other's hearts and minds in this. Of course I want him home, but we both serve.
On the drive to NJ I took the kids to the base exchange in Buffalo. It's funny and sweet how much they wanted to get to show they're proud of their Abba. We had a "moment of misery". As we became quiet on the drive, the children retreated into their own thoughts. There were some tears, some sad comments. I said I understood that no one was happy that Abba had to leave, so we should all be as miserable as we could. This of course brought laughter and comments of "Eema!" For me the drive from the airport was not one of ease. It's hard to drive and cry, so I was trying to hold it in. Each time I heard a sob the tears tipped over my lashes and ran down my face. We're endured separations before, and will endure this one. But still to feel the heartbreak of the children along with my own is tear inducing at any moment.
Grandparents are great vaccines to misery. Arrival at my parents, after a 14 hour day (lots of road construction), was a boon to the children. Excitement about their new house, treats, and grandparent love is a wonderful, if temporary, cure. The days here pass quickly. There are aunts and uncles to see, hours on the computer and TV, and an indoor pool. What more could we ask for?! Today we're heading to Scarsdale for the comforts of a Shabbat at someone's home, and lots of family to hug, kiss, and fawn over the children.
The week before departure is an interesting one. It very much seems normal, but my mind keeps wondering why. Still, everyone is a little tenser. We snap a little faster. Keren & Jesse show the most visible signs. Gavi's nature just has everything roll of his back.
Funny how we left the packing to the last minute. I'm blaming the Hagim. That works. Hopefully we got everything, but we won't know until we leave. I wonder at the wisdom of a trip immediately after Sean leaves, but the bar mitzvah is scheduled, and I wouldn't miss it for anything.
The morning of departure was so much better than I'd thought. No tears at the house; no fighting to get out of bed; no nudging each other, just good stuff. Tears at the airport were a different thing. Keren was first. She's been crying on and off for the past month. This was no different. No hysterics, just a quiet cry with, "I don't want you to go." This time it had a new effect, Sean began to cry. In 20 years of knowing my husband, I've only seen him cry twice. We did kisses and hugs all around, accompanied by tears. For the two of us a sweet kiss and an "I love you." There's little to say. We know each other's hearts and minds in this. Of course I want him home, but we both serve.
On the drive to NJ I took the kids to the base exchange in Buffalo. It's funny and sweet how much they wanted to get to show they're proud of their Abba. We had a "moment of misery". As we became quiet on the drive, the children retreated into their own thoughts. There were some tears, some sad comments. I said I understood that no one was happy that Abba had to leave, so we should all be as miserable as we could. This of course brought laughter and comments of "Eema!" For me the drive from the airport was not one of ease. It's hard to drive and cry, so I was trying to hold it in. Each time I heard a sob the tears tipped over my lashes and ran down my face. We're endured separations before, and will endure this one. But still to feel the heartbreak of the children along with my own is tear inducing at any moment.
Grandparents are great vaccines to misery. Arrival at my parents, after a 14 hour day (lots of road construction), was a boon to the children. Excitement about their new house, treats, and grandparent love is a wonderful, if temporary, cure. The days here pass quickly. There are aunts and uncles to see, hours on the computer and TV, and an indoor pool. What more could we ask for?! Today we're heading to Scarsdale for the comforts of a Shabbat at someone's home, and lots of family to hug, kiss, and fawn over the children.
