A different kind of good-bye

I sat alone in the parking lot taking hits of my cigarettes while waiting for a text from my sister-in-law. My brother was leaving the country to work abroad and we spent the last few hours before his departure playing with his kids, yet I was impervious to the heaviness that day. I dropped his family off at the airport and found myself at the closest mall’s parking lot wasting time until they asked to be picked up. I let them have the last few moments together, up until the time that my brother had to board. My brother last left the country about three years ago. He was there for only six months, and at the time his daughter was only three years old. Now his family included a one-year-old boy and the young girl, who asked me three years ago, “Where’s daddy going?” was now fully aware of what took place that evening.

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