Saying goodbye at the airport was
an incredibly difficult time, despite all the warnings and preparation we'd received.
At first, Mikey worried that he wasn't crying. I reminded him that everyone
shows their feelings differently, and that he was probably the type who would feel it most strongly at bedtime, while I was tucking him in, with Leonya's bunk empty beneath him. He thought of this, and a moment later, he wept.
For me, the night before Leonya's airport departure was poignantly insightful. Packing his rucksack proved bittersweet, because Leonid went around his bedroom and picked up favorite things -- toy trucks, light-up sneakers, stuffed animals -- and asked me if I could fit them into the backpack. I'd say, "Yes, but it will stay in Shatalovo..." and he'd carefully replace them in the room. My heart stretched into all kinds of contorted shapes that night.
Leonid had attached strongly to Ryan, and Ryan's feelings were mutual. Leonya wanted to be held frequently that morning before the flight, and Ryan was all too willing to carry him around, piggy-back style, baby monkey fashion, bear hugging and with plain old big brother affection.
Mikey and Leonid had finally bonded as brothers the second half of the summer, when they shared bike-riding, candy-eating, ATV journeys to the nearby mountaintops, swimming and brotherly "hanging out." Michael has carefully avoided moving any of Leonya's toys in the bedroom they share, and he kindly assists in my "nesting" moments of preparing the room for our family member's return.
Mikey and Leonid had finally bonded as brothers the second half of the summer, when they shared bike-riding, candy-eating, ATV journeys to the nearby mountaintops, swimming and brotherly "hanging out." Michael has carefully avoided moving any of Leonya's toys in the bedroom they share, and he kindly assists in my "nesting" moments of preparing the room for our family member's return.
