My mother visits today. Her plane lands at our small airport at 4:30pm. I'll bring the kids with me. We always go inside the airport; the kids really like to see their Mom Mom walk out of the revolving door.
I'll wait to see my father behind her. I know he won't be, but the knowledge of that painful fact does not prevent from wishing that it could be so. He'd be dressed in dark gray slacks, neatly pressed. His light blue, lightly starched oxford shirt would match his eyes. Over it all he'd wear a dark blue sport coat. An enameled American flag would decorate the lapel. That's how he dressed when he traveled.
Oh, life is not complete without him here. The pain, the grief isn't any less.