Airport Tears

There are 3 types of people in the airport. The happy ones, the bored ones, and the sad ones.

The happy ones are those folks either going on vacation or traveling to see a loved one. The bored ones are those traveling for work - another day, another plane. The sad ones are those people either coming back from vacation or leaving a loved one.

Today, I am the sad one. I’ve already been in the airport bathroom drying my tears, touching up my make up and trying to ensure that I don’t look disheveled to the point someone feels the need to ask if I’m OK. Because if they ask, I’m only going to start crying again.

And it’s not because I’m coming back from vacation. This many tears would be a bit extreme if I were just leaving a beach behind.

Instead, I left my son behind.

I’ve left him behind before…at summer camp, at college. But those were within a 2 state radius. Today I left him behind in Utah…all the way across the country for his first job out of college.

It’s been a whirlwind. 3 weeks ago he flew out to a job fair at the University of Utah for an opportunity in Sports Management. There were 10 openings. And if you know anything about this field you know it’s not an easy nut to crack. Coupled with the current job market, recent grads are often just lucky to get a job, any job, that pays the rent. So to get a job in your field is like finding the Golden Ticket.

At first, flying from North Carolina to a job fair in Utah for one of 10 spots felt a little too spontaneous, not to mention expensive. But he was adamant that this was the opportunity he needed. So we halved the cost of the trip and off he went. It was a daylong interview process with the various levels of the athletic administration team.

He sized up his competition and felt good about his chances.

As for me, I refused to say things like…I know you will get the job or you deserve one of those spots. Because I didn’t know if he would get the job and frankly there were surely a lot of other young people there who deserved it as much as my kid. I also don’t believe in building a kid up with false hope or excessive praise. I’m not a fan of the everyone-gets-a-trophy mentality. Over the years I have tried to instill in my kids the ethics of hard work and determination, learning from failure, and growing their resilience.

So my comments to him were these:

• I’m really proud of you for trying.

• Whatever the outcome, you will learn from the experience.

• You will never regret trying but you may always regret a missed opportunity.

In my heart, I wanted him to succeed so badly but I also knew I couldn’t do it for him. This is his journey and my job at this point is to love and support him as he takes the chance.

His chance paid off. He got the job! And I moved him across the country this past weekend.

This morning, in a strange role reversal, he drove me to the airport. I hugged him a little too tightly and thankfully, he let me. I said all the things I wanted to say. As he pulled away I thought…this is just as it should be…but God…it hurts so much.

I saw a post on Instagram recently that said a mother’s greatest joy is watching the lives of her children unfold. It’s the greatest movie we will ever watch. The greatest story we will ever witness. It’s true. And it’s a tear-jerker.

But we have raised them for such a time as this. To be brave and independent. To take chances. To make mistakes. To get back up and try again. To create the life that only they can create. And I’m sure they will shed their own tears too…just probably not when we are looking.

As for me, last night I watched him from his apartment window…shooting hoops on the basketball court below. He didn’t know I was looking. It was a moment that didn’t escape me. Watching him once again but this time at a distance. Seeing him make some shots and miss some shots. Noticing how he would shake it off and try again. Imagining the emotions he was feeling and letting him feel them in his own way.

I cried at the window. How could I not? But they were tears of joy and love and hope. Above all they were tears of gratitude for this life I have had the privilege of watching for 22 years. I’m not at the side lines now…it feels more like a balcony or better yet a season ticket holder box seat and I’m watching the warm up for the much anticipated game of the season.

I know I will cheer louder than anyone.

But typing these words is just making me cry again. So let me go touch up my mascara. My plane is about to board.

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