Going Away, August, 2005

Friends gave us a going-away party. Sandra didn't come because she didn't want to deal with friends and family asking her, 'How do you feel about your parents moving to Italy?' 'And, other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?'

And then it was time to go, August 1.

Sandra wouldn't hear of a car service for all our bags and us, so she drove us in her big SUV, packed to the gills. Emily's cat carrier was on my lap, there was not a square inch of empty space anywhere. We had 7 suitcases, 1 Aero bed in a big suitcase, each other and Emily. We left for the airport.

Sandra and I were relentlessly not crying. Angel was looking out the passenger side window off into space. Nobody talked much during the ride. We were excited about our adventure, she was happy that we were following our dream, but we all knew it would be at least six months before we were together again. We always taught Sandra, first you have to dream, then you have to plan. So, here was the plan in action. I was about to get what I campaigned and lobbied for.

At security control at the airport, Sandra had to stay behind. I will never forget her frozen smile as she didn't cry. At the going away party, one of our friends said that some of our other friends had wanted to surprise us at the airport with a big sendoff, and what did I think. I said thank them for the thought, but no thanks. Sandra told me later she would not have been able to deal with all of that. It had to be, as it always is, just the three of us.

Emily rode in baggage. At Rome, changing planes to Verona, I asked if my cat was alright. Answer: What cat? THAT is when the tears not shed in Newark came. Sobbing. In Verona, Emily just looked at me accusingly. Believe me, it was reproachful and accusing.

It took Emily one year to start to recover from her ordeal, after spending the first three months hiding in the closets, and at the end of this second year, she is finally back to her old self. Our newcomer, Annie, is largely responsible for this. Our little Italian gatta came to us in June 2006. As a kitten, she never let Emily ignore her.

It has also taken me two years to start to adjust. This blog is my process. How did the Italians, and all the other emigrants, leave their families, countries, all they knew, before phones, faxes, emails? What brave...or desperate...people they were. I come from a family of emigrants, from Italy and Ireland, so I thought I was born for this kind of sea change. The jury is out, though I am a little more hopeful today than I was last week.