Then the airline told me my suitcase had been lost somewhere during the connection.
Normally, I would have been upset.
That day, I just nodded.
At least, I thought, my family will be waiting outside.
Before leaving, I had texted my son, Wesley, my daughter, Corinne, and my sister with my flight information.
Someone would come.
Edmund had died.
Surely, for one evening, someone would come.
I walked through the arrivals doors.
Families were everywhere.
A little girl ran into her father’s arms.
A man held flowers above his head while an older woman laughed and cried at the same time.
Drivers held signs.
People waved.
I kept walking.
Nobody waved at me.
I checked my phone.
Nothing.
I called Wesley.
He answered after several rings.
“Mom, are you there already?”
“Yes. I just came through arrivals. Where are you?”
There was a pause.
Then he said, “I’m not coming. Take a cab.”
