Tears, Rain, and 30 Hours of Airports: A Father’s Ode to Letting Go

Today was one of those days that hit you like a freight train, but not before making sure you’re drenched in rain for extra drama. I logged kilometers—yes, actual kilometers because that sounds more epic than miles—driving through weather so bad it felt like Mother Nature was challenging my parenting resolve. But the destination? Schiphol Airport, where we had the bittersweet task of sending our youngest son on his first big solo adventure.

And not just any trip, mind you—a 30-hour odyssey to the U.S. to meet up with a friend. Yep, my boy is officially a globetrotter now, skipping across continents like it’s no big deal. Meanwhile, I’m here wondering if he packed enough socks and secretly hoping he doesn’t lose his passport. You can take the dad out of the house, but you can’t take the house out of the dad, am I right?

The Rainy Farewell

The weather was straight out of a Hollywood drama: torrential rain, overcast skies, and just the right amount of gloom to amplify the emotional weight of the day. But we pushed through, navigating the wet streets and chaotic parking lots of Schiphol like seasoned pros. (Side note: Why does airport parking always feel like a Hunger Games arena?)

Once inside, we decided to have one last meal together. And let me tell you, there’s something oddly poetic about eating overpriced airport food with your kid, knowing you’re about to wave him off for two weeks. The meal was good—probably because it was seasoned with a mix of pride and nostalgia.

Then came the hug. You know the one. That big, lingering dad hug where you want to say, “You’ve got this,” but all that comes out is, “Text me when you land. And don’t lose your wallet.” Yeah, I might’ve gotten a little teary-eyed, but let’s blame the rain for making my face extra shiny.

Watching Him Walk Away

We stood there, my wife and I, as he passed through security, turning around one last time to wave. It was like something out of a Spielberg movie. My inner monologue was going full Tom Bilyeu motivational mode: “This is it, man. This is the moment you let him step into the fire and figure out how to walk through it on his own.”

Except, in reality, I was just thinking, “Does he know how layovers work? Did I teach him enough? Should I have mentioned TSA rules again?” But I kept it cool. Well, cool-ish. A dad’s gotta do what a dad’s gotta do.

Reflections in the Rain

As we walked back to the car, the rain seemed to intensify, as if the universe was committing to the emotional aesthetic of the day. The Schiphol control tower loomed in the background like a lighthouse guiding us home—or maybe mocking me for being a sentimental softie.

Driving away, I couldn’t help but think about all the times I held his little hand crossing the street, and now here he was, crossing oceans. It’s a bittersweet feeling, letting your kid take that leap. But that’s the job, isn’t it? You raise them to fly, even when it means watching them disappear into the clouds while you drive home in the rain.

Final Thoughts

So here we are. The house is a little quieter tonight, but my heart is a little louder, filled with pride for the young man he’s becoming. Travel safe, my boy. Eat something other than airport pizza, keep your passport handy, and remember: no matter how far you go, we’ll always be here, ready to welcome you back.

And if you forget to text me when you land, I will text your friend’s parents. Just saying.