On Saying Goodbye to a Son Who Lives Far Away

rounding a curve on Rt. 205
the air traffic control tower looms
above the horizon on the way to
Portland International Airport
(PDX), home of the iconic
teal  blue carpet

(or is it teal green)
where we take pictures of our feet
the carpet that says
“we’re home” or
“we’re leaving.

today we are leaving.
it will be a long eight months until
I see this dear face again,
my son, once
my littlest boy, now
my tallest with a wife
and sons of his own.
proud to be the son who
has only boys.
“carrying on the family
tradition”, he says

too much life will happen
too much life I’ll miss
sporting events not watched
music not created on the screen
before my very eyes,
brought about by the
rhythmic fingers and
musical brain of
my dark brown-eyed,
dark-haired grandson
and his beatbox.

no drives through the
up-and-down winding roads,
through the evergreens, ever alert
for a glimpse of majestic Mt. Hood.
no goats to visit,
no alpacas to make me smile.
no football games in the yard
viewed from my front-step bleacher seat
No basketball games in the driveway
and no one to ask why I shoot
like a grandma.

no dogs to dodge, seeing my legs
as a way through as they
chase each other or are chased
by the grandsons.
hugs not received nor given.
It’s not so much
what happens.
it’s that it happens
without me getting to
choose if I am there
or not.

tears spring to the surface
my tall son asks if I need a tissue?
how does he know?
we have an understanding
my son and me. I’m the mom.
I get to cry. We’re good with it.
he hands me a tissue
it’s as it should be
he cares about me
the way grown-up sons care
for their mothers.

At the United Terminal,
I hug this tall grown-up son of mine.
I entrust him to Jesus every day
as much for me as for him.
I’ll start the newsletters* again.
I told him when he went west
It’s hard to see you go
and I support you.
today, it’s hard to leave
and I still support him.


Now dear readers, you’ll have to excuse me. I have a Cousins Connection Newsletter to create. connecting the ten cousins from Oregon to Illinois.

Follow me on Facebook, Instagram or even Twitter and you just might catch a glimpse of said “newsletter.“ Give me till next week though.

** That carpet click HERE for unique local history about that teal-green-or-is-it-blue carpet.

If you are already subscribed to this blog, you know  I post “when inspired” which means just that – no set schedule. All that happens when you subscribe is a welcome email and an email when I post the next time (when inspired)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *