Saturday my other half’s mother passed on.
But in reality his mother had already been gone for quite a while… she had Alzheimers, and there’s been a few stages, which is where the plane comes in.
Nearly decade ago it started, with confusion… days were gone, then weeks, months, and years… but his mother was still his mother now and then, and this is when I think of the airport.
She’d gone to start on her destination. Entered the airport and bought a ticket. As her plane wasn’t leaving for a while, she would now and then exit the airport, and everyone she knew, was still someone she knew and loved.
But then she passed passport control. You can’t come back after passport control. It would still be years before she headed for the departure lounge. She could be seen though the glass wall, but her world was miles apart from everyone elses.
She’d entered the past. She was young, in-love with her handsome young husband, who was working out at sea, and she had a couple of young children. Her biggest worry during these years was that she wanted to find some part time work to help with the household expense.
Her grown up children not recognised, as behind passport control, three of them hadn’t even been born yet, let alone being adults with children and grandchildren themselves. Their mother gone, instead they were left with a young lady, in an elderly lady’s body.
And so the years passed, with her slowly heading towards the departure lounge.
She reached the lounge last year. The mother long gone, and now the young lady gone too.
And a week ago she’d checked in. Doctors said a week. A week it was.
Saturday she finally walked through the departure gates and boarded the plane. I hope her husband and her second eldest child was there waiting for her in first class.
Safe journey, Ana. I’m sorry you were stuck in the airport for so long… but I’m glad you found a safe haven, decades in the past. It’s hard for us all stuck here outside the airport, as although you left us a long time ago, we’re still grieving.