It becomes one of my most valuable lessons. No matter where life takes me, it all comes back to this. I really couldn't tell you why it happens, it just does. Lets' just say that "coming full circle" thing applies.
I'm back home.
My home coming was really uneventful. Honestly, partly because I wanted it that way, but the other part felt as if I didn't have to celebrate it. I believe the phrase I've used to describe it had been "bitter-sweet". Perfect, right on the nose. To clarify, I'm happy to be home. I am not happy to have left. Confused? Maybe. But its' a real feeling. Same one I had when I left to California 9 years ago.
Full circle.
Many of my friends and family would ask me, "Don't you miss home? Isn't it hard? Don't you miss your family?" It's funny. I've only been back 3 weeks, and I am still being asked the same questions. My answer: Of course it is. It is never easy, no matter what the situation is.
My last day in California summed it up. I woke up curled up next to my son, holding him just like any other day. But this time, there was an all too familiar sinking feeling. He slept, I wept. At given points, the sobs were uncontrollable. I didn't want to wake him up. I tried my best to continue with my routine, which I did. But the tears and the gasps weren't going to make it easy. And they didn't. I couldn't even hold my toothbrush properly. Every step became a challenge, every motion became a struggle. I felt weaker by the minute. and only a few minutes had gone by. In the shower, I was happy the water would hide some of my tears and sobs. I stood there for quite a bit hoping the water would just let my sorrow wash away and go down the drain. I unloaded as much as I could.
I had already packed, so once I was dressed I slid back into my son's bed. Curled, cuddled. Listening to his small snores and deep breathes. Heavy sleeper like his dad. I began to cry some more. I just couldn't stop. He kept sleeping. I don't how long this went on for, but I do remember being startled by his mom. She walked in, maybe thinking that she would have to wake both of us up. I wondered if she was there long. She was at the foot of the bed; lightly grabbed my ankle. I think she said "Oh da daddies..."
I fell to pieces.
We sat near the entrance of the security gate at the airport before I had to go through it, my son in between me and his mom. He had an old cell phone I gave him. He was taking pictures left and right, all smiles. He took random shots of us, then asked us to pose. He never missed a beat. He looked happy. The moment he got up from bed, he was his usual self. Happy, smiles....whining more about not being able to play Minecraft more than anything else. But he never flinched. He hugged us both, took some more pictures. Giggles and chuckles. Incredible. As we all walked to the gate, I felt the tears coming back. I saw his mom's face; she was in tears. But my son...he smiled. He giggled nervously and proceeded to grab me and his mom. He hugged us tightly and said "It will be OK. I love you."
I know he's only 10, but it doesn't matter. He's one tough boy. He displayed a strength that had always been there, I just noticed it more on that day. As a parent, I believe one of your many jobs is to protect your children from all harm. But the world isn't perfect. Sometimes harm seeps in, and it is really hard to see it for yourself until it happens. I was worried for a long time...but my last day in California I recognized something. Actually, I learned something. I learned it from my son.
Immense powers he has. Like the legend of the Phoenix...
(In Dumbledore's voice) "Oh...you have much to learn Albert! Much to learn..."
I love you papi.
