Leavin' on a jet plane: An emotional journey home to Ireland

A sudden family death in Ireland, an upcoming wedding and all kinds of emotional upheaval

While my stomach does a rumble, alerting me to my hunger and my anxiousness, I notice a family of five. They appear to be a mother, a father and three kids.

After sharing a McDonald’s meal together, the father, sporting a Munster rugby jacket, bids farewell to his young children. One by one he embraces them, and although he doesn’t shed a tear the sadness on his face says it all. He tries to be the grownup.

The children already look lonely. They hug him tightly and for a moment he squeezes his eyes shut and mumbles something into each of their ears. Although only a fleeting moment, it was sad but beautiful.

As he ushers them to the security gate, he rubs his wife’s back affectionately. She is the one holding it all together. They share a moment together as a cute dog passing by distracts the children. He kisses her on the cheek and he is gone.

As he walks by me I could swear he was crying; at least he was inside. It may be that his family is going back to Ireland on a vacation without him for a while; he may be busy with work, he may be undocumented or he simply may be following them later in the week. Whatever the reason, it still had emotional consequences.

An older Irish woman took a seat at a nearby table. She appeared to be alone also until an older gentleman appeared at her side with a phone.

She rang whomever she needed to remind them not to forget the time change in Ireland. One would assume it was her drive home from the airport.

The woman and man, both dressed in their finest attire, small chatted about what I gathered was a relation, the scandalous price of a drink at the airport, the weather, the death of a neighbor, a car accident on a Mayo road and a looming family divorce.

Finally the time had come for goodbye. The man, whom I later discovered was the lady’s brother (he has been living in New York for 46 years), walked his sister to the security gate. Gave her a kiss on the cheek, a brief hug and went on his way.

She watched him leave. She looked sad. She later told me while we waited to board our plane that her brother, young Jimmy she called him, was the youngest of 12 children. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last month and she fears she will never see him again.

This time she cried, and so did I. It was justified. It was sad, heartbreaking, in fact.

There is a lot of sadness all around me today. But with the dark clouds comes a light.

A young couple, with strong Dublin accents, is slouched across a table. Together they laugh. It was clear from their luggage and their Abercrombie shirts that they just had a successful shopping trip in the Big Apple.

It was nice to see laughter. It was nice to see smiling faces, and when it was time to go through security it was nice to see them not have to say goodbye to anyone.

After a few quick bites of a sandwich, it was my turn to say goodbye, albeit for only a month. It was still hard. John accompanied me to the security gate. He could go no further.

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Nster.com