Yep, that place in Washington. You know the state that is on the polar opposite corner of the United States.
I suppose he really did hate it here. I don't blame him though, he needed this more than anyone I know and I am so overly proud of the courage he mustered up to hop a plane and leave. It was time.
I've known for about a year now that he was leaving. I never really came to terms with it, I just kind of laughed it off and thought it would never happen. Until the drive home from the airport last Saturday.
The bridge home is 10 miles, and I cried every mile of it. Silent tears, ones that don't make noise...ones that trickle down and cling to your cheek before they drip into nothingness.
The tears dried the second we reached the end of the bridge and I gathered myself. It symbolic in a way, he was always the bridge that got me to where I was going. I didn't expect to take this as hard as I did, but I think when a sibling parts ways with you, a part of you goes with them.
I hope that he carries parts of me with him in his heart's pocket every day.
The part where I used to sneak into his room on Saturday mornings as a kid (with psychedelic bean bag in hand) and watch cartoons. The part where we would have marble races on the floor and I always named mine. The part where I would watch intently while he played video games, and make the audio for the characters which usually annoyed the crap out of him. The part where he would mediate the pointless teenage angst between my mom and I. The parts when he would straighten me up, when things were a bit crooked and I lost my way. The part when he held his niece for the first time and bonded with her and ended up being the best of buddies.
The part where we hugged in the airport and he approached his new life, the one where he can be happy and do what he was made to do.
And he better do just that, so I can add one more thing to my list of reasons why I have always looked up to him, and not because he is significantly taller than I am.