[A young black man, skinny and short. He has a calmed stare and a soothing speaking voice.]
“I’ve worked at the airport cafeteria for over ten years now, but my dream was to go to college, become a teacher. And I would have if my very religious father wouldn’t have kicked me out of the house the day I told him I’m gay.
I was barely eighteen; I had to hustle to survive. But I don’t hold any grudges against my father… even though he had nothing to do with me for years.
Well, maybe I do have one grudge against him for not letting me visit my grandmother on her deathbed. He didn’t even allow me to attend her funeral mass.
She had been a very important part of my childhood, of my emotional upbringing, and it hurt so much to know I’d never see her again. I thought I’d missed my last opportunity to say goodbye to her, to let her know how much I loved her.
Although I tried not to think too much about it, I got obsessed… so much so, that every night after my shift at the cafeteria was over, I would walk up to the departures terminal of the airport. There, snuggled up in a corner, I would watch the travelers saying good-bye to their families, their partners, their friends, with hugs, tears, kisses… and I’d imagine those strangers were me and my grandma, saying our good-byes to each other.
It was like therapy; I thought it’d help me close the wound of not getting my chance.
Until one night, right when I was about to leave the airport, I saw a couple hugging in the middle of the terminal. There was something special in the way they were embracing, with desperation, with anxiety. I couldn’t stop staring. I knew that’s how I’d have said goodbye to my grandma, with that intensity and sincerity.
I felt so sad, my eyes started watering.
But then the couple held hands and walked toward the airport exit while the woman insisted on helping the man, who had only just arrived, with his luggage.
That’s when I started crying… out of joy, when I realized that saying hello and saying goodbye were very similar, mirror images of the same experience; two extremes whose mutual attraction keep the cycle of existence spinning.
Anyway…
I now sit in the arrivals terminal each night after work. There, I watch people greeting and welcoming each other, just like grandma and I will do whenever we reunite again.”
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Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016