If you ever need a reminder of what love is supposed to look like, spend an afternoon in Terminal 8 at JFK (or any park in Mexico for that matter). Terminal 8 is the international terminal where some people, fresh off an epic adventure of some kind, reunite with their loved ones with fresh eyes and a renewed heart. There's no time wasted on etiquette or politeness here, just pure uninhibited public displays of affection. I saw an older married couple embrace, without speaking a single word, for what seemed like an eternity and so tightly that I wondered if they had trouble breathing. Moments later a woman in her 40s literally leapt into her husband's lap and giggled like a 6th grader. It never gets old to watch, that is until the making out and groping begins.
It was at terminal 8 where I was lucky enough to witness my friend, Philosopher King, Josue Lajuenesse as he reunited with his daughter Danielle after she had been left stranded in Port au Prince and forced to sleep on the streets for more than a week as a result of the earthquake that destroyed Haiti on January 21. Having been a father myself now for about 16 months, I can imagine on some level what that must have felt like to think of your own flesh and blood amidst all that devastation, death, and rampant violence. The attachment that develops between you and your offspring is almost inexplicable and otherworldy - and the instinct to protect and preserve, ridiculously overwhelming at times. The scenarios that undoubtedly played in his mind must have been torture on him.
Of all days, a truck had overturned on the Beltway in New York preventing Josue from getting to the airport in time to meet Danielle at the gate. I sat with Danielle for two hours while she shared with me in her broken but vastly improved English what she had been through the last week and a half. I asked how she was able to manage food-wise and she replied, while politely munching on a can of Pringles and Dove chocolate, "I drank water mostly". I struggled to think of appropriate responses and quickly realized there were none. I just sat with her in silence and imagined the rows of corpses she must have walked by everyday, the individuals trapped beneath rubble and screaming for help, and how shitty it must feel leaving her friends and mother behind and being among the "priveleged" few who could afford the bus fare to the Dominican Republic and airfare to get home.
Josue walked hurriedly through the entrance of the terminal holding a small bouquet of flowers frantically scanning the room for Danielle. When he spotted her near the back of the room, I could see the adrenalin that had sustained him for the last week or so drain instantly from his body as a calm came over him and his hurried pace nearly came to a stop. It was as though he had no reason to move anymore. She was safe.
The embrace was everything one would expect to see: tears flowing, few words exchanged, death-grip embrace, a beautifully raw display of love between a father and his only daughter.
