Saying Goodbye

Anne Gagliano

Saying Goodbye

我讨厌说再见 - 我总是有。当我还是个小女孩的时候,我会哭泣,然后登上飞机飞回家园之前,将自己扔进机场。每年我都必须在感恩节上向我心爱的姨妈,叔叔和堂兄说再见。我只是讨厌它 - 与我所爱的人的分离。每当我丈夫迈克(Mike)离开时,我什至撕裂了几天。我讨厌再见,即使只有一段时间。但是他们甚至都没有开始与最近的再见相提并论,因为上周,我不得不让我最小的男孩独自一人,在全国各地清晰,可能是他的余生。

我们知道这一天来了。我们已经知道了几个月。在过去的冬季,里克被接受了几所法学院,其中一些在家附近,但他想要的那个,他选择的那所是最远的一所。我有足够的时间来习惯这个想法,但是即将到来的告别超出了我的面临,所以我埋葬了。

As the days slipped away and the time grew near, my heart began to ache more and more. Rick had moved back home after finishing his undergraduate degree to spend this year saving money as he made his applications. We loved having our boy here! Not only was he a comfort after having our oldest son get married last summer (another tough goodbye), but he was lots of help, too! We have very extensive grounds that need lots of upkeep; Rick did it all. The boys have both always done the majority of our yard work, but with him home full-time again, he was able to do even more and complete some pretty big projects for us.

Day after day, I’d watch him in the yard mowing, hauling gravel, weeding, and frolicking with our two little dogs. “Ricky’s home,” we’d say whenever he’d walk in, and the dogs would go nuts. They love Rick—I think more than any of us—because he actually plays with them. Seeing him with them down by the lake makes my eyes well up with tears, as I know soon those little tails will droop, for they, too, will have to say goodbye.
随着日期的临近,一切变得更加痛苦 - 最后一次洗衣服。折叠他时髦的T恤。和购物 - 我总是为他购物,因为他像一匹马一样吃饭;上次上下杂货过道,我上次购买他最喜欢的东西时,这真是令人难以置信。

我开始帮助他打包。He’s upbeat and excited—I’m quiet and withdrawn as I dare not speak over the lump in my throat. He’s rummaging through his things, trying to decide what to take; I’m watching his blonde head and studying every line of it, burning his image into my memory, for this will soon no longer be his home.

I try to conjure up all the irritations he brings—the massive food requirements, the wet towels, the dirty laundry and food crumbs, his disruptive presence when Mike and I want to be alone. But these small nuisances aren’t enough—I still don’t want him to go. Although my son is now a man, all I see when I look at him is our precious little “Water Baby” (our pet name for him), who brought us grasshoppers and snakes and who always wanted “chlocolate,” his baby word for chocolate. I slip a jar of Nutella chocolate spread into one of his suitcases—the last I’ll buy for him.

We fly to DC, the goodbye drawing closer, the goodbye I hate to face. We spend the week setting him up in his new place. It’s perfect. It’s nice, safe, furnished, and close to campus. I hang a picture of “chlocolate” on his wall. The law school is gorgeous, impressive, amazing; we are bursting with pride.

我们一起学习地铁系统 - 我希望我们在西雅图有一个!我们带儿子去国家购物中心;他被吹走了。他是他梦dream以求的地方,它写在他的脸上,那个珍贵的小男孩的脸确实是男人的。当我们接近华盛顿纪念碑时,我看着迈克垂在儿子周围,我的心充满感激。我拥有的丈夫 - 在消防员的薪水上,他把我们的男孩带到了这个地方,工作了无数小时的加班时间,并牺牲了他的大部分空闲时间,甚至是他自己的一些梦想,以帮助里克认识他。里克(Rick)在父亲旁边近在咫尺,他自豪地穿着父亲的消防局T恤。

The heat is a bit much for us thick-blooded Seattleites. It was 65 degrees at home—here it’s 90 and humid. Rick has to face being sweaty for the first time and is concerned about showing up to class that way. But it’s all still amazing, heat and all. We enjoy the crickets’ song and the warm summer nights—neither of which we have back home. The energy is palpable—both Rick’s and the area’s—for he is a young, handsome man with a bright future in a living, vibrant city, our nation’s capital. I drink it all in, hoping the excitement will drown out the mounting pain of the impending goodbye, but it doesn’t.

The day comes. It’s very early, still dark. We rise, grab our now-empty suitcases save for one, and head to his apartment door. He wants to go with us to the airport, but I say no. I want my last image of him to be in his cozy little place. Can I do this? Can I leave my baby so very far away from me? I gather every ounce of strength I possess to hold back the flood of emotion that threatens to break me, cripple me, and keep me from being able to even walk down the hall. I hug my boy one last time. He hugs me tight, his strong, young arms enveloping me. “Goodbye, Mom,” he says. “Thanks for everything. I love you.”

I cannot speak—the tears flow. All I can do is cling to him and try not to embarrass him too much by blubbering.

“再见,亲爱的,”我终于又皱着眉头。确实,这是所有人中最难的告别。

安妮·加里亚诺(Anne Gagliano)已与西雅图(WA)消防局的迈克·加利亚诺(Mike Gagliano)上尉结婚26年。她和她的丈夫一起讲授建立和保持牢固的婚姻。

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