I stood at the end of the tube, waiting. Holding my breath. Then I saw them. Stumbling. Tired. Weary. From the tube of the plane that had carried half of my family. My family. My four new children carried on the wings of a Lot airliner from Poland. Safe sound.
The welcoming committee greeted them with smiles. Brother. Sisters. Cousins. Aunts. Uncles. Friends. All waiting to Welcome them home. A new home. A new beginning. A new family.
Back at home in a hospital was my dear Bud, Step father. Guide. Advisor. A machine pushing breath in and sucking it out. All of us willing him to live. To be healed. Praying. Hourly. Stuffing our belles with food so we couldn’t think about the dying. The word no one wanted to speak. Spirit leaving the body. A shell left behind.
I wonder if his journey was the same. The tube. Faces. Friends. Family. Welcome. Heaven. One family joined on earth. Another rejoined in heaven. Two welcomes in one week. One leaving. Four staying.