For me, the last day is always the hardest.
As much as I want to savor every moment with him, drag each moment out, enjoy our last day together, that pit in my stomach just won’t stop panging. Pang, pang, pang, endlessly, all day long, reminding me that we only have five hours and 23 minutes left. Two hours and 13 minutes left. One hour. One second. And then he’s gone. And I don’t know when I’ll see him again.
That’s why the last day is always the hardest.
I’ve become a regular at LaGuardia Terminal B–for me, it’s the epitome of the dichotomy of heaven and hell (though its neverending construction makes you feel like you’ve entered the gates of hell for all eternity). It’s both where I get to squeeze him after six long months of text messages and weekly FaceTimes or spontaneous “I’m walking home from work” phone calls, and where I drag my feet and grip his hand and hold onto him one last time until who-knows-when, secretly hoping I squeeze him just long enough that he misses his flight, that they close the gates and force him back to me. It’s where my eyes well up with complete joy, and where I try not to let the sadness fall in rivets down my face when it’s time to say goodbye.
Long distance is the current status of my relationship. It’s booking plane tickets, asking bosses for time off, and praying to the weather gods to back off for one night so the plane can land on time. It’s laying in bed at night wondering when you’ll see them again. It’s staying up insanely late or waking up before the sun has risen just to get a fifteen-minute phone call. It’s sporadic texts between time zones and wondering where you two will be in a few years.
So, yeah–it’s a pain in the ass. But that’s only the smallest part of it.
Long distance is also incredible strength. It’s knowing that you both are such independent people, completely whole and fulfilled on your own, that you are strong enough to be away from the one person who understands you the most in this world for an unknown amount of time.
It’s complete trust and commitment to one person who may be miles away, time zones away, continents away. It’s knowing that they could have chosen anyone in the world out of 7.7 billion human beings and they chose you, no matter how far the distance.
It’s companionship deeper than you’ve ever known because the only way to get to know each other from miles away is to open up and be vulnerable. It’s not only giving endless amounts of love and support, but receiving endless amounts of love and support from the other side of the state or the country or the world.
It’s patient and selfless in giving them the freedom and your blessings to be who they want and chase their dreams without you because you know when the time is right you both will come together. It’s more adventure and spontaneity than you’ve ever known.
It’s loneliness that lurks in the corner and sometimes envelops you and overwhelms you, but it’s mostly knowing how romantic and enriching and rewarding and just completely worth it this relationship is. It’s constantly wishing the distance would end, but remembering how strong it has made both of you as individuals and as a couple. And, most importantly, it’s knowing you will never take that person or the time you spend together for granted because time is not in your favor.
I get asked a lot how I do it. More often, I get asked why. This is why I do it. The distance is only temporary. What long distance has given both of us–support, companionship, adventure, patience, trust, and unconditional love–is forever lasting.
And one day, we will have our last trip to the airport. I won’t have to think about our last day. But for now, I will both jump for joy and schlep my feet at the terminal. And when I’m walking back to my car alone, or onto the plane alone, I will take a deep breath and smile because I know that as much as the distance has taken from me, it has given me so much more.
TESS CARCALDI 