Each of the three times I’ve had to see Charlie off at the airport, it’s been a tearful parting.  The first time was because we’d fallen in love, but we didn’t know what would happen next, when we’d see each other again.  Now that I think of it, each time he’s left that’s been the case, that’s been the question:  when will we see each other again?  The uncertainty is a bitch.

It’s been 18 days since I took Charlie to the airport.  Eighteen days I have, at some point, on each of those days, been in tears.  Some days have been ok; some days, well some days have been unbearable.  A week ago yesterday, for example, I spent an entire day crying.  Today has been another unbearable day.

My mind keeps returning to the airport today, for some reason.  I have this picture in my head:  Charlie going through the security gates, turning back to look at me as I waited until he’d gone through.  One last final wave, and he was gone.  Then, in my imagination, I run through the gates, run until I catch up with him, throw my arms around him, ask him to please reconsider.  please stay.  finding some last minute reason, some fantastic miracle of a reason for him to stay.  finding some way to quell his yearning for London.

Of course, this was not how it happened.  I stayed until his flight left; I cried in the car for a while.  I circled the Nashville airport twice because they are doing construction and I couldn’t, in my blurry-eyed state, find my way out.  I only wanted to go home and bury my head in my pillow and cry.

I couldn’t sleep that night.  I waited until I thought he was home again, about 1am my time, then went to sleep.  He texted to say he was in London about 3.30am.  I awoke at 5.30am, and could not get back to sleep.

I would love nothing more than for the phone to ring, and Charlie tell me he’s at the airport, ready to be picked up.  Alternately, I’d love to jump on a plane, right this moment, and fly to London.  The only thing stopping me is the fact that I just applied for a passport, and it won’t arrive for  a couple of weeks.

The separation from him is killing me.