It was 5:40 in the morning at O’Hare, and sleet was hitting the windshield. Ethan pulled up to the Terminal 1 curb with the hazards on.
It was February, near the end of our second year of long distance. I had a 7:05 flight back to Phoenix and a lump in my throat.
A security guy tapped the window and said “keep it moving, folks” before we even hugged. I cried all the way to the gate.
We said goodbye at airports maybe 40 times over three years. That February curb was the worst one, and it changed how we did them.
Here is what I learned about the airport goodbye from doing it far too often. Some of it helped a lot, and some of it never got easier.
Say the Real Goodbye Before You Leave the House
The biggest change we made was moving the goodbye out of the airport. A rushed curb is no place for the hardest moment of a visit.
After that February, we said our real goodbye in his apartment. We sat on the couch for ten quiet minutes with our coats already on.
That was when we said the soft things and held on a little longer. Nobody was honking, and no guard was waving us along.
The curb then became a quick hug and a promise to text. It still hurt, but it did not feel stolen from us.
I wish we had started this in year one instead of year two. Those ten minutes on the couch were worth more than any long hug outside.
Plan the Next Visit Before This One Ends
The goodbye felt bottomless when I did not know when I would see him. Nothing makes a curb feel colder than an open question.
So we made a rule to book the next trip before the current one ended. Usually we did it the night before, with laptops on the bed.
Once I had a date, the goodbye had a shape and an end point. I could count down 23 days instead of guessing.
Some months money was tight, and we could not book a flight yet. On those visits, we at least picked a month and wrote it down.
Our habit came from reading about how to plan the perfect visit early on. Booking ahead was the tip that stuck.
Give Yourself a Small Ritual for the Gate
The hour at the gate was where I fell apart the most. I would sit there scrolling old photos and making it so much worse.
So I built a tiny ritual for that hour instead. I bought one hot chocolate and opened a letter Ethan had tucked in my bag.
He wrote those letters the night before, and they were never long. One said “you snore, I miss it” in his messy print.
Having one thing to do gave my hands and my heart a job. It was hard to sob while laughing at a note about snoring.
Later, I started saving one podcast episode just for the flight. I only let myself play it after the plane left the ground.
Let Yourself Feel It Without Making It a Crisis
For a long time, I treated my airport tears like a warning sign. I thought crying that hard meant the distance was breaking us.
It did not mean that at all, and it took me a while to see it. Crying at a gate just meant I loved someone and had to leave him.
I started letting the sad hour be a sad hour and nothing more. I did not make big decisions about us on the flight home.
If you keep spiraling, a bad long distance day plan can help. Mine was soup, a shower, and an early night.
The sadness peaked at the gate and faded by the next evening. Knowing that pattern made it easier to just ride it out.
Have a Landing Routine for the First Night Back
The first night home was often harder than the airport itself. My apartment felt too quiet, and his hoodie still smelled like him.
So we made a landing routine we did every single time. I texted when I landed, and he called once I walked in the door.
That call was short, usually just 15 minutes of nothing much. He asked about the flight, and I told him about the guy who reclined.
Hearing his normal voice in my normal space helped a lot. It reminded me we still existed outside of visits.
I also kept the first evening simple on purpose. No laundry, no emails, just takeout and a show we both liked.
Do Not Pick a Fight on the Last Day
This one took us way too long to notice. We fought on the last day of almost every visit for a whole year.
The fights were never about anything real, which made them confusing. Once it was about whose turn it was to buy the coffee.
Ethan finally said “I think we fight so leaving hurts less” one night. He was right, and it made us both go very quiet.
After that, we named it out loud whenever we felt it coming. One of us would say “last day grumps” and we would both laugh.
It did not stop every small fight, but it shrank them a lot. Our long distance fight advice notes got a new rule that week.
What Still Did Not Work Perfectly
I will be honest, none of this made the airport goodbye painless. The curb still hurt, and I still cried more often than not.
Some trips, the ritual and the letter did not help at all. I just sat at the gate with red eyes and let people stare.
Early flights were the hardest, and we never fixed that. A 5 in the morning goodbye in the dark is just bad, full stop.
These days we live in the same city, and I almost never fly alone. I still tear up a little when I see couples at a curb.
If you are dreading your next goodbye, you are not doing it wrong. It is supposed to hurt, and you can still get better at it.
