When I left it was difficult, there’s no way around that. But just how hard? Getting on the plane was just an act, but the good-byes were much more emotional. By getting on that plane, I left my family for three whole months.
These past two weeks have been difficult– increasingly so– but it was only until I had just one more full day at home that it hit just how badly I was going to miss every single member of my family. But leaving my baby brothers and sisters? That’s one of the hardest things ever.
It’s not that I love them more, it’s just that I realize that of all my family members, they are the most likely to change in my absence.
John Mark will continue to mature into his “big kid” wings. Birdie will increase in her violin prowess. Phineas will make those little leaps and bounds that are so exciting. Simon will jump from toddler to preschooler. Jude– sweet little three month-old– will reenter my life physically at seven months, drastically different. And what hurts is that I’m going to miss it.
I’m going to miss every milestone for the next three months. I will not be a physical person in their lives. I will have a lessened chance of not only interacting with them, but also of influencing them, of seeing their great big smiles as they discover a brand new thing, of reading them the books I loved at their age.
For me, the thing that hurts the worst is the distance between us. I won’t be able to hug them. To hold them. To kiss them. To pick them up and play Ride a Little Horsey. For three months we will be connected only by a digital screen or a telephone. I can see, but I can’t touch.
I know it’s just temporary, but it still hurts. The last night I was home, I asked to put them all in bed so I could hold on to just a few more minutes. I cried so hard on my Momma later.
It’s only three months, and yet, it’s three months.