This is a story about the end of something great; all great things end, and they usually end in tears or relief.
Mine is a little of both.
Sitting here high up, overlooking the airport, I see a rainbow it is touching the field behind the runway. It’s 7am, I’ve been up here before it was light, nowhere else to go since I dropped her off at the “Departing Flights” a quick kiss, neither one of us willing to admit that it was over, but it was. There was a brief thought of tears, but I held them back, I assume that she was the same, I think I saw a little moisture in her eyes as she smiled a goodbye and with a turn never looked back. Even at that time of the morning the cops still tell you to move on, and the airport was just coming alive at half past 4 in the morning.
Driving with a lump in my throat I ended up here, at the top of the mountain. Getting out of my car I found a spot with a clear view of the runway, and wondered which plane was hers. The tears came then, rushing up like a bad breakfast after a night of drinking, in heaves and shame.
Choking back sobs, I looked around to see if there were anyone near, not likely at 5am, the effort of holding it in, hurt my throat so I let loose, crying audibly for life and love and lost chances.
She had just come back to say goodbye to her mother, lying dying on her bed, so full of life just weeks before, sad and shrunken she said her farewell to her daughter and her ex son in law. I think I saw acceptance in her eyes, forgiveness. Maybe it was hopeful projection, but I hope not. Sitting next to her daughter I realized how much I missed her and how far we had come since we’d split. She, happy and content, me finally able to let go of my guilt.
As the old girl slipped away, so did the illusion that her daughter and I were still together. The rest fades into fog, the details of life’s end, so mundane and annoying, the paperwork, the disposal of remains, lifeless as we felt, loosed she was gone, free. We chained in this world; left to settle accounts.
After that, the trip to the airport, a promise to stay in touch, a peck on the cheek, both holding back emotion for fear the flood would drown us all.
Life is full of lost and lonely people and I was now set to join them. Utterly unprepared, I wept for myself as much as for my loss. It’s like waking up and finding that your legs are missing, you don’t think that it is possible to move, and you cant go on. But you can.
As the sun reaches higher I dry my tears, pull down my shades and walk away as the rainbow ends.
©The Autobiography of Mr. Perfect, 2015