I haven’t seen my brother for nearly 7yrs ~ it hardly seems conceivable that it’s true, but it is. Sadly it is. Year after year either money or time have gotten in the way of either one of us hopping over the pond to see the other.
I started to moot the idea of going over to see him for his 40th, before Christmas. Simultaneous he was beginning to plan a trip back to the UK. And today he landed. He was flying from Boston to Newcastle with a brief stopover in London. We talked about meeting at Heathrow, but we weren’t sure whether they’d be allowed through or not. At 3.30am I received a message saying they would be able to, would I be there? Would I ever!! … but I only picked up the message at 7am.
“Yes … I’m coming … Please be there!”
I stood at the arrivals exit for over an hour, hoping that every tall man was my brother, every dark haired woman was his girlfriend. I tiptoed, craned, agitatedly walked this way and that; and cried in anticipation. But he never came.
Customer services couldn’t help, nor could BA ~ “he’ll be in the connecting flight part, he won’t be allowed out, there’s not enough time to reclear immigration” … Nooo, but..? But nothing.
We were within metres of each other, but couldn’t see each other; couldn’t hold each other; couldn’t talk; couldn’t anything. So close, yet so far apart.
Our reunion is delayed only a few more days, I’ll see him on the evening of the 21st. And whilst we’ll only have a few days together, the three of us are going to have a brilliant time in London.