"Daddy don't leave…." is like a bullet to the heart. Sennen rapid fired in spurts for two days.
Even though we have three weeks where he and Ailyn are in their mom's custody and going away means I forfeit roughly four hours with Ailyn and two with Sennen this coming week – and none for the subsequent two which are actual Winter Break – the idea of not being with me for three weeks was especially hard on Sennen this time around.
On any given day, Sennen will tell you he's fine with the divorce. He and his sister have adapted and while it's not preferable, it's fine. And that's true – they have adapted quite well. Only none of us – even more so children – understand all the ramifications of our choices. The entirety of the chain of events is not foreseeable. I believe that it's now – a little more than two years since Emily and I separated and as Sennen has entered Middle School – that the realities of always missing a parent and not necessarily being with the parent he wants at any given time have finally hit him.
At 47 it's easy to forget the lack of control a child has. Even as adults, sometimes we just want our mom, or our dad, or whoever…. and if we're lucky enough to have them alive and accessible in some way, we can reach out or go see them.
Three weeks apart is not a real stretch for my kids. For the past two summers they have spent five consecutive weeks with each parent and while with me on Patmos, there didn't seem to be any homesickness. They of course talked to their mom regularly and it seemed fine. This is our third Winter Break since the split and they have spent one with each of us. Last year the kids and I had two and a half weeks in France and while Ailyn was anxious to see Emily as soon as we arrived home, there were no tears or angst along the way. Similarly, the year prior when I was in Thailand, Singapore and Borneo while the kids were with Emily, there was no struggle or sadness.
But we change. And time changes us. And the kid who was fine while I trekked through a jungle in Borneo two years ago doesn't want me to go before he leaves for Hawaii in another week.
At 11 Sennen understands what we feel is not always what's logical. He understands we wouldn't be able to see each other more than a few hours if I were to stay home – and he just wants to be with his dad. Without any conceit, it's understandable.
The kids change households on Fridays – going to school from one house and going home to the other. This week, Ailyn transitioned but Sennen stayed with me for an extra night and day. Because he was home on an independent study – we got all of Friday and half of Saturday together. There was fun, togetherness, a lot of tears and even more hugs. He had lots of questions about the divorce and lots to share about his feelings and perceptions. I wished I could take it all away from him. I wished things had gone differently. I could write at length about all my feelings about the divorce and the impacts I sought to avoid – but when dealing with my son, all I could do was be present, listen and hug him a lot.
Like all things with children, there are phases and moments. Hopefully for Sennen, this is just one stage and moment – and that my responses were sufficient to get him through.
So the beginning of this trip began a little seriously and emotionally.
That said, once Sennen was returned to Emily and I made it to LAX, things got easier. My timing was great, I breezed through checkin and security and right into the United Club lounge to kill some time. My flight boarded on time and was held 20 minutes on the tarmac only because the tailwinds would have had us arriving in London 40 minutes early and the airport wanted us arriving no more than 20 minutes ahead of schedule (which is exactly what happened). A nice problem to have.
I haven't been to Heathrow since 2007 during a calamitous transit where I missed my connecting flight by not minutes, but seconds. I watched the gate door close while running towards it – and even though the plane hadn't pulled back from the gate, they wouldn't let me on. All that because the British Airways flight crew went to Long Beach instead of LAX before realizing their mistake and coming back to the correct airport – causing a two hour delay in our departure….
So while I spent a few hours waiting for the next flight to Paris, my memories of Heathrow were clouded with angst and trying to change French train tickets on airport internet stations back when such things existed.
Of course I never left the airport. So perhaps the last time I was in London was really the summer before I turned 16 on a trip led by one of my high school English teachers during which my friend Jon Poling and I were allowed to run around the city by ourselves during free time. Those are amazing memories and yet, I find myself shocked in retrospect that Mrs Cano allowed high schoolers to run free in London and later Paris in an era without cell phones so long as we were with at least one other person. Somehow it worked – everyone always made it back to the hotel safely and without damage.
Undoubtedly London has changed a lot since 1993, so it may one day be worth a revisit. However, I left not feeling compelled to return. The city was pleasant, but not terribly different than home and well, everyone spoke English – which seemed boring. That was my feeling about the UK in general – it wasn't different enough for me to really want to dig in. They were like us – only with quaint accents, phrases and lesser food. Jon and I charmingly renamed Alistair, our twenty-something tour guide, Pip. It spiced things up for us when Jon started sentences with, "Hey Pip, let me ask you a question…" Alistair may not have shared in our humor.
The other day it occurred to me I should use this transit as an opportunity to come to the UK with fresh eyes – even if just to wash away my bad Heathrow memories. I decided to arrive eyes wide open and curious.
What I can say in my limited exposure is that Terminal 2 – The Queen's Terminal – is very nice and modern. Although since she died of bone cancer I wonder if anyone has rethought whether it's really appropriate to use the phrase, The Queen's Terminal?
Just passing along the tarmac is a reminder of how international the UK is – or perhaps better phrased – how much the country is shaped by the legacy of empire. Airlines from every corner of the globe are present at Heathrow including scores of small African nations, every part of the Caribbean and the entire Middle East. Planes from the Seychelles, Jamaica and the Falklands are lined up along the concourse. Inside the terminals, the faces too are diverse as is the cuisine. Even in the United lounge, among the array of interesting food options, the Indian food was the best.
It seems to me empire has been a rollercoaster for Britain. Of course it was a huge success for some couple of hundred years (if you look at it strictly from the British perspective). The aftermath of empire was a giant financial, dragging down Britain's economy and global position for decades after World War II. Luckily for Britain, globalization has generally been good to it. The Commonwealth which at first seemed like an almost vain attempt to retain some semblance of empire did in fact keep Britain as the hub of a global network of countries. That network has value in a globalized world and while Britain may no longer be the wealthiest or most powerful country on Earth, it now has the sixth largest economy by GDP – which, when you think about it is astounding for a country of its size and domestic resources.
Sure, for awhile there it looked like dentistry had passed the UK by and socialism was going to curb its economic competitiveness – especially as numerous other financial centers developed across the globe. It turns out, even with moments of humility, Britain is resilient. People often forget Britain was late to the European Colonialism party with Spain and Portugal far outstripping it for a couple of hundred years – but by the reign of Elizabeth I, Britain became a lean, scrappy startup of Imperialism that turned out to be the Unicorn of its times. If that's how Imperialsm can be viewed.
Perhaps the sun setting on the British Empire isn't the last chapter of Britain's success…. I wish I had Pip's thoughts on the matter.
In any case, I think I have extracted more from Heathrow than it legitimately has to offer. So with two more hours before my connecting flight to Athens, I'll eat a little more delicious lounge food and sip a few sparkling lime waters. I'll arrive in Athens at 12:30 am, head to the hotel where I'll meet up with Michelle and have the day before a 6pm ferry – the last eight-hour leg of the journey.
