“I believe this is where we part,” she said, stopping near one of the gates and looking up at me.

My sweet daughter. After five months of being apart, her in California and me in Illinois, we were forced to say goodbye again. She’d flown back from her university to spend Christmas with me and her mother, a three-week break that went by much faster than I could have anticipated. Maybe it’s normal for parents to grow more attached to their children the less time they have to spend with them, but it seemed a bit extreme how terribly my heart was aching standing before her in the airport now, dreading with all my being what was about to happen, the inevitable goodbye. There was that, as well as the stale air in my lungs, the droning chatter of other people, the bag straps cutting into my fingers, and I suppose it was all too much, because the lump in my throat became impossible to swallow down no matter how hard I tried, and once the tears formed in my eyes, there was no hiding them.

“Oh, Dad, don’t cry,” my daughter whispered, reaching for my hand. “I’ll come back in a few months, okay? Maybe we can do something for Spring break.”

“We miss you so much, Ella.” I squeezed her hand. “It’s like the life got sucked out of our home.”

She gave a short laugh, but there were tears in her eyes now. “Don’t be dramatic, Dad. You still have Mom and the dogs.”

I had so many feelings and words ready to burst forth, but I held them back, knowing I’d hold her up if I started and couldn’t stop. Instead, I stared back at her, relishing the warm smile on her face, the skin of her hand against my own. She had no idea how much I cared for her, even though I told her every day. Some things are just too grand to fully express.

“Just promise you won’t live too far away after you graduate,” I said. It was partly a joke, since I admired her independence and wanted her to explore it fully, but I had to admit that if she chose to reside in California after college, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

“California is so nice, though.” She paused, then stepped forward and embraced me. “But maybe.”

“For your old dad’s sake.”

“Maybe, Dad.”

I wasn’t sure how long the hug lasted—only that, when she finally did release me, the tears had taken on the form of streams. It was almost pathetic, really, how much I missed her already.

“Gosh, I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave you when you’re crying like that.” Ella was crying herself, but managed to compose herself a bit more effectively. I’d already given up trying.

“Just rip off the band-aid, I guess.”

“Okay.” She took a big breath in, out, stepped back once, stepped back again, smiling all the while. “Bye, Dad. Just a couple more months.”

“Bye, sweetie. See you again soon.” But my voice broke on the last word, and I’m not sure it was audible to her. It didn’t matter anyway, though. We both knew it wouldn’t be soon at all.