My usual M.O., whenever Georges has to go away for more than, say, 48 hours on a business trip, which he has to do maybe twice a year, is that I get a little bit weepy as he's leaving. He knows this about me and he humors me, never criticizes or tells me I'm being a big damn baby and just suck it up, already, woman, you're getting salt water all over my favorite tie! He's good that way, putting up with my emotional nature and loving me because of it rather than in spite of it. Which is why I am willing to overlook it when he leaves his socks on the floor.
I don't know why, after all this time, I cry when he has to go on a trip (or on those roughly once-a-year occasions where I have had to go back to the States without him). I am more secure in this relationship than ever before in my life; I never worry about him voluntarily leaving me, it's never been a question for even one second since the day we met. So I don't know why I get so worked up at a separation of a few days or even a week; lots of couples travel for business and I doubt most of those women are having to mop up the runny mascara.
Actually, that's not true; I DO know why I cry. It's because I have an overly vivid imagination, where my mind can make the quantum leap from, "Hey, it's just a few days apart, most married people CRAVE a couple of days apart, this isn't such a bad thing" to "Oh My God What If Something Happens and We Never See Each Other Again" in about 2.5 seconds flat.
I have abandonment issues.
I have known this for years, so it's no big surprise to me that I (over)react this way at times, when faced with being separated from the man I love more than anyone in the world. And yes, I've already "seen someone" about that. Doesn't matter that I can manage my fears and imagination a lot better now; the issue just never completely seems to go away, so I've learned to live with it, cry about it whenever it rears it's annoying head, and then shrug it off and get on with living.
So this time, with Georges having to go to Haiti, I had my usual abandonment stuff coming up PLUS an extra added dose of stress because of the conditions in Haiti and not really knowing what he'd be dealing with. Of course, once he'd gotten there and discovered what a nice little inn he was being housed at, it made it easier because at least I knew he'd be eating decently, having access to good amenities, and a quiet place to go every evening after what I knew would be very stressful days. After the first 48 hours of his absence, my anxieties lifted and it was life as usual around here, and although I missed him terribly, there were no tears or moments where my imagination was getting the better of me. I just felt like everything was going to be OK. And it was.
Today, when I knew Georges was on his way home from Orly on the shuttle, I made a pot of coffee, wrapped myself up in a warm shawl (it's a bit frais here in Paris this week), and took a cup of coffee, a book and a cushion out to the courtyard to sit and wait for him. Waiting inside the house just wasn't good enough; I wanted a clear, unobstructed view of the door to the street when he arrived.
When he walked in, looking so handsome in his colorful green jacket, so very Georges, with that wonderful smile and his eyes filled with love and happiness at seeing me again, I had a huge smile on my face. And just before he reached me to pull me into his arms, I burst into tears, something I don't think I've ever done when he's coming HOME.
I usually only cry when he leaves. This time, the tears were different. Tears of relief. Tears of joy. Tears of gratitude.
Because he is SAFE. He is WELL. And he is HERE.
