Tearful goodbyes.

It seems we have been saying our goodbyes for several weeks now.  First it was the tearful goodbye to my colleagues at work, who organized a send-off party on my last day.  About 30 of them crowded in the kitchen area of our beautiful 30 Rockefeller Plaza office, raising their glass and toasting to “Team Idan.”  Then, it was the tearful goodbye to Ashley and our other close friends in New York that have helped distract, entertain, and encourage us through this entire ordeal.  This was soon followed by the tearful goodbye to Akiva’s parents who flew in from Israel a few weeks ago.  Yesterday, it was the tearful goodbye to Aviva, my very pregnant sister-in-law, who silently agreed how painful it is that we won’t be there for the birth of our little nephew.  Today, it was goodbye to my siblings, my parents, our constant sources of strength.  And it was goodbye to the little life we have created for our family.  The play area (a.k.a. “fort”) that we created for Idan in the livingroom.  Our blue rocking chair where Idan falls asleep in our arms.  Idan’s tub, which he will outgrow by the time we return.  Idan’s favorite toys that he likes to snuggle with on lazy mornings.  Our home.   A tearful goodbye, indeed.

We said goodbye to everything and everyone we know and love and jetted out to Seattle today.  These goodbyes were tearful because we do not know what the future holds.  How this journey will change our course.   Tonight, as we sit on this luxurious jet and speak with its humble and gracious host, we are reminded that we may be saying goodbye to everything we know, but a miracle is just off the horizon.  And after that miracle happens, we will be back.