The past few months while Brendan was working on his mission papers, and even when he got his call- I naively thought that the whole process would be easier on me because I sent his brother off on a mission a year and a half before.
Seeing the growth in his brother Jayden makes me excited about all of the adventures in store for Brendan, but it DOES NOT make it easier. Repeat. The second time around is NOT easier.
As things progressed and we got closer to his departure date, I started crying really early. "Oh, this is not good." I would think, and it wasn't.
We took Jayden straight to the airport and I watched his plane taxi out, and that was pretty horrible.
We drove Brendan yesterday to the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo.
It was equally as brutal.
When we arrived at the MTC, there was quite a line-up of cars and airport shuttles making drop-offs. They sorted us into two lines, and as we split off and drove up to the curb of the MTC, the walkway was lined with missionaries, all of them clapping and cheering.
I was not prepared for this- and for some reason, it made the dam burst and I started to ugly cry. I am not sure why it made me cry? Maybe it was just seeing the army of kids in white with nametags? Maybe it was the fact that they were trying so hard to make this separation as positive as they could? Maybe it was because I knew that these same kids lining up and clapping and shouting that "everything was going to be fine" were also trying to convince themselves of that too- since most of them had probably just arrived days before.
We pulled curbside, and I knew they didn't allow for lingering- so I hopped out, and we went around to the back of the van to help unload the two bags that held all of the earthly possessions Brendan would take for two years of living away from home.
We had a cute little Elder rush around to the back and say "No, let me get those, I've got those." and I didn't even thank him. It was all so rushed, and he is some other mother's sweet boy-doing his best to make our hearts less heavy.
This Elder asked if he could take a photo for us.
I was grateful, but also I kind of didn't want the picture because I could barely muster a smile at this point. It was all happening so fast.
I managed to get a photo of Elder Wadley, and the future Elder Wadley III. Yep. I get to do this all again next year.
These two will overlap, and they will not see each other for three years.
I gave Brendan one last hug (and drink in the smell of him) and one last kiss (on his very slightly stubbly cheek) and he was off.
He didn't turn back and wave. I am not sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. Like maybe he couldn't because it would hurt- or hopefully he didn't even think about it, because he was excited for what was ahead, and no longer wanted to look back.
We pulled around and searched for his gait in the sea of Elders and Sisters walking into the building.
My last view of him is this crappy through-the-dirty-windshield shot, and then he was gone.
The ride home was about the same as a year and a half ago.
Sam cracking jokes to ease the tension.
Me in dark sunglasses blowing through a box of Kleenex. All the while Brendan's phone chirping with re-tweets and instagram comments from his last social media posts.
I wasted the whole rest of the day.
I will probably start back up on the diet in a while, but I just let my heart dictate what we eat this week. So far my heart enjoys ice cream straight from the carton, puffed Cheetos and cherries. (A little fruit to balance it all out, way to go, heart!)
I took a nap in Brendan's bed.
(Brendan's room is in the basement, and all the kids want this room. It is dark, and cold and sort-of like a cave. I am tempted to keep it as "the napping room".)
This morning I got a short little e-mail from Elder Wadley.
Bless the people running the show.
This made all the difference to me, to hear from him. Desperate moms all over the world, using up the world supply of tissues.
Here is Elder Wadley's first e-mail. Apparently he doesn't use punctuation.
And I am kind of looking forward to the next two years.
His personality comes through in his writing and I think this is going to be a good time.
Seeing the growth in his brother Jayden makes me excited about all of the adventures in store for Brendan, but it DOES NOT make it easier. Repeat. The second time around is NOT easier.
We took Jayden straight to the airport and I watched his plane taxi out, and that was pretty horrible.
We drove Brendan yesterday to the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo.
It was equally as brutal.
When we arrived at the MTC, there was quite a line-up of cars and airport shuttles making drop-offs. They sorted us into two lines, and as we split off and drove up to the curb of the MTC, the walkway was lined with missionaries, all of them clapping and cheering.
We pulled curbside, and I knew they didn't allow for lingering- so I hopped out, and we went around to the back of the van to help unload the two bags that held all of the earthly possessions Brendan would take for two years of living away from home.
This Elder asked if he could take a photo for us.
I was grateful, but also I kind of didn't want the picture because I could barely muster a smile at this point. It was all happening so fast.
I gave Brendan one last hug (and drink in the smell of him) and one last kiss (on his very slightly stubbly cheek) and he was off.
We pulled around and searched for his gait in the sea of Elders and Sisters walking into the building.
The ride home was about the same as a year and a half ago.
Sam cracking jokes to ease the tension.
Me in dark sunglasses blowing through a box of Kleenex. All the while Brendan's phone chirping with re-tweets and instagram comments from his last social media posts.
I wasted the whole rest of the day.
I will probably start back up on the diet in a while, but I just let my heart dictate what we eat this week. So far my heart enjoys ice cream straight from the carton, puffed Cheetos and cherries. (A little fruit to balance it all out, way to go, heart!)
I took a nap in Brendan's bed.
(Brendan's room is in the basement, and all the kids want this room. It is dark, and cold and sort-of like a cave. I am tempted to keep it as "the napping room".)
This morning I got a short little e-mail from Elder Wadley.
Bless the people running the show.
This made all the difference to me, to hear from him. Desperate moms all over the world, using up the world supply of tissues.
Here is Elder Wadley's first e-mail. Apparently he doesn't use punctuation.
So today, I am fine, because he is fine.Mom i dont have like anytime today this is more just to let you know that im safe and not dead and stuff my P days are thursdays my my companions name is elder fonohema hes from spanish fork his dad is from tonga though! while im at the MTC my mission will be called Provo MTC my unit number is 45 my address is 2005 N 900 E provo Utah 84604 my mailbox number is 16 thats all the crap the told us to write but my companion is cool i like him in our room its elder fonohema elder darrington and elder sepeda hes from mexico his flight got delayed a ton yesterday so he didnt get here til about two in the morning which was pretty cool and hey get this i was like the first outta bed this morning so suck it! anyway tell everyone i love them and ill talk to you more next week!
And I am kind of looking forward to the next two years.
His personality comes through in his writing and I think this is going to be a good time.
