I didn't cry like I usually do. I reminded myself (with some extra encouragement from the new hubby) that it's only a short separation and before I know it he'll be back in LA. I guess the facts suppressed the water works, because usually while I'm kissing him goodbye I just can't keep myself from crying.
Today it was a little different.
The mystery of the relationship is gone now, thankfully. When we part ways, we no longer have to wonder: is this the last time we'll see each other? Are we going to make it another three months separated by a 5200 miles (or 8368.5 kilometers)? What the heck are we going to talk about on Skype tomorrow?! That mystery (let's be honest, misery is a better word for it) isn't relevant anymore and it takes a bit of the sting out of the goodbye.
But even with the reassurance of a speedy return (only 6 weeks this time, woohoo!), and the whole marriage thing, my heart still ached as he went through security. I stood there until he was out of site, with big tears welling up in eyes, threatening to let go and cause a scene. I'm proud to say I held them back - well, most of them...only a few escaped down my cheek as I walked to the car. Truthfully, what I missed the most at that very moment was holding his hand. I suddenly felt incredibly alone. I missed him and he we hadn't even been apart for more than ten minutes.
Goodbyes are never easy, and I typically cry my way through them. Honestly, I cry my way through most difficult things in this world, but in my opinion that is just fine because sometimes (or in my case, most times) all you need is a good cry before you can move on and be happy again.
I expect to burst into tears at any given moment.