It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later- December 7th, 2019
Snuggled all cozy in the covers, I open my eyes, and the first thing I see as my pupils become re-accustomed to the world is Tom. It’s such a great way to wake up and one that is a rarity. We don’t often get to lie there with nowhere to be for a while. Usually he’s up, getting himself ready for work, Ollie ready for school, and just overall organized chaos. Not today. Today, we have the house to ourselves. I lie in his arms, trying to memorize the way he feels around me. The way he smells. The lines on his hands as I grip them. The crows feet (as he calls them) that angle off of his blue eyes towards his ears. Mental pictures. Soaking it all in. Knowing full well that in less than 12 hours we will be forced to say goodbye, not knowing when we will be able to see each other again. I try hard to keep these thoughts at bay so that I can enjoy what little time I have left.
It took a while, but we finally made the difficult decision to get out of bed. The only thing better than cuddles in bed, is coffee, and it was calling our name. Drinking our coffees, while sitting outside in his beautiful garden, I can’t help but think what a damn near perfect morning it is basking in each other’s company. I never want it to end. But unfortunately, real life is waiting for us both.
Tom heads to a birthday lunch at the wineries and I head to Liam’s parent’s house. It was Liam’s annual Christmas with friends celebration and I could not leave without saying a proper goodbye. We sit in the backyard surrounded by the gorgeous trees and flowers that his mom’s green thumb keeps so well. Having one last drink to toast a great year we spent under the same roof. A quick game of Finska, and a dance and song number from the one and only Savannah, and it was my time to say goodbye. I give everyone hugs but save Liam for last. We hold on just a bit longer, a bit tighter. My hardest goodbye so far.
I arrive back at the house and all I can do is stare at my mess of a room. I have been dreading this for weeks. How do I pack the last 2+ years into one rucksack? The answer is, you can’t, and you don’t. I start by making piles. On the left is stuff to keep, the right is stuff to maybe keep, and the black garbage bag is give away. This task feels never ending. I’m getting sad and discouraged when all of a sudden Ebony calls. I swear it’s like she can sense when I need her. She said she and Penny are popping by to help me pack and spend time with me. Thank goodness! Ten minutes later I hear the door open, and my favorite little voice say, “Hi Jo Jo” followed by a big hug. It’s amazing how just the mere sight of the two of them allows me to breathe just a tad easier. They stay for HOURS helping me make decisions of what I can part with, and what I can’t. We make a box of things they will hold onto for me until I can come back, and of course, a box of stuff for each of them to keep for themselves.
Wondering whether penny really understands what’s going on is breaking my heart. How can she? She’s only 3. When she slept over earlier in the week I tried to explain it to her using a map, and showing her the KidSongs movie from when I was a kid, “I’d like to teach the world to sing” that depicts people living all over the world. When she is used to seeing me multiple times a week, I just don’t know how to make the transition of only seeing me over a phone screen palpable to her. I wish I didn’t have to. In my last ditch effort to somehow show her that I will always be there for her even when I’m not physically around, I give her my very special elephant. It slept on my bed with me every night since I bought it for a fancy dress night on the farm. She knows it well. “Penny,” I said fighting back tears, “can you take care of my elephant while I’m gone? And when you miss me, just give my elephant a big hug and it will be like I’m giving you a big cuddle okay?” She smiles and takes it from my hands, “Okay, Jo Jo” she said.
That’s it, I am done. Rushing and running late, but done. Everything packed, boxed, or bagged accordingly. I take one last look under the bed, in the bathroom, the cabinets, and then one last loop around the house, I made my home. More mental notes. Knowing I will probably never live in this wonderful house again. As tears begin to glisten my eyes, I walk out and shut the door behind me. Goodbye Jane Street.
There is only one thing left to do before heading to the airport. Clean Tippy. The most perfect “tin box” car that has taken me around Australia for the last few years. The car that showed me some of the most beautiful and unique things I’ve ever seen. The car I learned to drive manual in. The car I locked myself out of way too many times. The car I don’t want to give up. I am already late and need to get a move on to the airport. But wait, where is Tom? He is supposed to pick me up. Did he forget and get too drunk at lunch and now isn’t going to say goodbye? I’m freaking out as Amanda, Ebony, Penny, Owen, Mick and Dawn all help me to clean the car as fast as possible as it sits on the lawn. I’m always running late. While I feel terrible for needing everyone’s help, they probably expected I’d be running late and need help and planned their afternoons accordingly. They all know me so well. After all, we’re family.
Tom pulls up to the Bevan house and I breathe a sigh of relief. Whew! He made it. All the crazy scenarios I made up in my head about how I wouldn’t get to see him or how he changed his mind and it would be too hard to say goodbye so he decided not to come, vanished. He grabs my things and puts them in his car. I do the dreaded goodbyes with Dawn and Mick as they run out to their plans for the evening. It was fast. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. I think we all handled it well.
Ebony, Amanda and the kids go in one car to the airport, and Tom and I go in another. I’m doing my best to hold back the tears as Tom just keeps reassuring me that everything is going to be okay. That I am about to have the time of my life travelling and when I’m done, I’ll figure out a way back. I hold his hand for most of the car ride. Squeezing it like a stress ball hoping it would some how make this whole nightmare disappear.
Like so many JetStar flights I’ve taken in the past, check in is not going smoothly. My bag is overweight. By a lot. I don’t have the mental capacity to fight, to attempt to throw more things away. I’m too emotionally fragile at right now and just barely holding it together. I pay the overage fees and off we all go through the first bit of security and straight to the Coopers Ale House for a pint; A Bevan airport family tradition. This time together is special. All 6 of of us, my favorite people, just talking, hanging out, making memories, taking photos and doing our best to ignore what is about to happen.
It’s getting late. Ebony and Amanda need to get the kids home for dinner. They also want to give Tom and I some alone time which I want, but I also don’t want to say goodbye. Hugs are all around. Tears are all around. Then all I see are their backsides walking away from me and out of the airport. I’m trying to stay composed, to breathe. It’s not easy. But it’s made easier by Tom throwing his big muscled arms around me as he tries to console me. “I can do this. Only one more goodbye” I think to myself.
Tom and I walk to the international departures, as far as he can go without a ticket. I can feel my heart breaking more and more with every step. It’s getting harder for me to breathe as I’m trying to subdue the breakdown I feel coming. I see the final baggage x-ray area and I can no longer hold it in. Tears are streaming uncontrollably down my face as Tom and I hold each other with a force that feels magnetic. I look up to him and tears are flowing down his cheeks. How do we let go? How do we say goodbye? How can a silly visa, a piece of paper, be responsible for so much pain? I can feel the glares of sadness and curiosity from the people around us. One more kiss, a giant cuddle and against everything I ever wanted, off I go through the last security check, alone.
I’m at my gate and I find a spot on the floor away from everyone. I just want to be alone, to disappear, to mourn in peace. My eyes are still flooding with tears when I remember I have not yet booked a hostel to stay in when I land in Vietnam. Crap! “Focus Jo”, I think to myself as I attempt to pull myself together and scroll through Hostel World. The Hideout Hostel Saigon is $6.24 AUD a night. That will do. I complete the booking just in time to board the plane, get situated in my seat and soar off to dreamland before the plane’s doors have even shut. Hopefully tomorrow is less emotionally draining.
Catch me if you can…
Jo Mo