My husband less so, but he’s also very pragmatic. I have lived outside of Ireland for almost 13 years now, so I am used to tearful goodbyes. He began to flail his arms and legs about, bawling and repeating “Omini” with increasing emphasis on each syllable, as if this would somehow conjure them back into our apartment.Īfter managing to carry him back upstairs to our apartment, all three of us fell to the ground sobbing and clutching each other, a broken, blubbering mess on the kitchen floor. As the car set off down our street, Fionn thrust his arms out towards it and burst into tears, crying “Omini” at the top of his lungs. In our living room five minutes earlier he had become rather withdrawn as his grandmother attempted to hug him while wiping away tears. I could sense Fionn’s curiosity tinged with creeping apprehension as he watched them load their suitcases into the boot and heard the car doors slam, gobbling up his cherished companions. He was waving goodbye and holding back the tears, trying desperately to put on a brave face as Omi and Opi – or Omini, as he calls them – climbed into their Uber and left for JFK airport.Īs the Uber set off down our street, Fionn thrust his arms out towards it and burst into tears, crying ‘Omini’ over and over at the top of his lungs, as if this would somehow conjure them back into our apartment ![]() ![]() That day my husband and I were standing on our stoop.
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