Book Segment #12: "And many returns."

December 4, 2005

And many returns.

I am safe for the moment, here in my compact space at 35,000 feet, 90 minutes into my flight to Denver from Ashland. I have been distracted with planning for the upcoming two-day retreat I will facilitate for one of my clients. Adequate time to allow the morning’s goodbyes, glances, images, and embraces to fade like wayward clouds. The short visit with Victoria and Rick has given me the courage to write the following. What immediately comes to mind is a moment many years ago when I had stopped in Dallas on a flight to… wherever my business happened to be taking me this particular trip… and asked my parents to come to the airport to say hi. This was when it was still permissible to come to the gate to greet arriving passengers. It had been far too many months since we had seen each other.

My parents were living in Dallas; me in Nashville. I was always way too busy to come and visit. “Working hard to support the family, you know. Client demands. Would love to come more, but you know how it is. I’ll get there soon, I promise, just don’t know when.” Harry Chapin’s sobering song, “Cat’s Cradle” comes to mind, with its famous refrain about being too busy with life to spend time together; “…and we’ll get together then, Dad. You know we’ll have a good time then.” I do not remember the content of our conversation at the gate, but there was one moment I will never forget, a snapshot forever pasted on the calendar’s frayed pages. I was walking towards the jet-way door, and had just crossed the entrance when I turned around to see if my parents were still there. They were, and for some reason I made a laser-like eye contact with my Dad. It was one of those moments, a freeze-frame in time. Just the two of us, alone. He was crying and smiling at the same time. I smiled back, lingered a moment, then turned back and continued onto the plane. I wrote a poem shortly after that, that I sent to him about life’s series of syncopated “leavings.” I wanted him to know how much I loved him and that my heart is and always will be with him.

Today, many years later in a small airport in Ashland, Oregon I met myself, walking the other way down the road. When Victoria, Rick and I arrived at the airport the morning I was leaving for home, I intentionally got out of the car, quickly gathered my stuff, wanting to avoid any lingering goodbyes. I was holding back the emotions erupting inside me, putting on a strong game face to portray the model of dad-like toughness and strength for Victoria. We hugged tightly, and I whispered in her ear “I love you so very much. We will get through all this.” She returned the embrace, and then I moved to my right to hug and say goodbye to Rick. It was all working “perfectly” until I glanced back her way and our eyes met. Just the two of us, alone. A single tear swelled in the corner of her right eye. My eyes filled up, and spilled. We smiled, turned and walked away. I walked through the automatic sliding doors and joined the line at the check-in counter. I took three deep breaths and wiped the tears from my eyes. “Control. Get it together, Kagan.” And then, instinctively, I turned around to catch a glimpse of the car; it appeared that they had already driven away. My heart sank. And then a slight movement to my left caught my eye. It was Victoria. She had come back. I thought for a moment that I might have left something in the car that she was bringing to me. But the instant our eyes met, I knew why she had come back. Her smile illuminated the room. Her tears shimmered on her cheeks like June fireflies. I would not deny my tears their freedom. And the resulting embrace is one I will cherish the rest of my life. We held each other so tightly.

The world vanished. Just a father and his daughter. She whispered something that sounded like, “I love you so much, Dad. We don’t have enough times like this.” And as that single moment froze, I watched, once again, that young man from so many years ago walking away down the jet-way, turning to catch his father’s eye; foregoing the chance to run back for one more hug before leaving.

I whispered, “I will always be with you, Victoria. I cherish you.”

In these types of moments I am certain God whispers to us. I am certain I heard Him say, “I will always be with you, too. I am.”

Post Question: Anyone reading this willing to share a moment you remember when "you met yourself coming the other way down the road?"