Time for departure spells EXIT! It spells Time to Part. It initiates lists, shopping, packing suitcases, tickets n travel. It also amounts to Byes, Goodbyes, tears, muffled laughter, back slap bonhomie, maudlin hugs, mushy words -each camouflage the passions that surge in the heart.
Indeed! Goodbyes are sad. They are times when memories of yore cascade around you, flooding you with emotions, making you go ‘senti’. Call it time for farewell/au revoir/send-offs/adieux- what you may- but departures do sadden. They make you weepy, ‘mopy’, grumpy, and strangely a bit happy all at a go! The first three you understand, but happy? I see your raised brow and revert- If the parting is for a good reason shouldn’t we express that wee bit of joy that lies suppressed beneath a mountainous mound of sadness? However, there is no denying that Goodbyes are an essential part of our growing up. AND it is not only the chronological sort of way of growing up; It is way more. Relationships strengthen, (don’t they say distance makes the heart grow fonder) bonds firm (all flaws that we may have whined about vanish into thin air), emotional maturity builds (learn to show and control/restrain) and yesteryears tumble out of the closet of memories that so far stood behind a wall of pretentiousness. What we may prefer to call ‘staying busy’. The past is in the open; nude, vulnerable.
Each one has her/his own way of dealing with it- for some it’s the red-nosed way, for others it’s putting on the brave front and pillow-wetting. For the still braver ones? They shrug away all surging feelings to say-what’s the big deal? After all one needs to move forward. Attain goals. Meet aspirations. What of parting? We are bound to meet again. It’s a matter of time. It could be weeks, months, or years, but meet we shall. So why fear or shed tears when the parting is merely temporary?
Why am I writing this? Where do I stand in all of this? I think I belong to the second category that restrains from any public display of emotions. And I mix it a bit with the hues of the braver one who pins hopes on meeting soon. Along with that I comfort myself that this parting would do a world of good to the individual who departs. It may be for a better outcome. It would nourish the relationship more for when you look at it from a distance you focus more on memories. It’s like an artist who studies his work of art from a distance-admiring, making changes and in a way improvising his creation. This is what goes with relationships too.
Lovers dread goodbyes, friends mope about departures, a mother frets but with pride when her brood finds wings to soar. The last one is me. University beckoned this mamma’s young one to distant shores. Not happy? That’s not even a thought! Overjoyed about his accomplishment. A feat which select few opt for and are privileged to attain. But the fact that the fledgling has learnt to fly evokes in me both the pride of a successful parent and the anxiety of a fretting mom. Distant, foreign lands beckoned and attracted my progeny and unlike a Christopher Columbus, he knew the chartered waters to take. And me? Well I find myself a little at sea when I do not see him around. Darting in and out with youthful exuberance of busyness, cackling laughter, prattle on the phone, soaring voice when displeased and the teenage angst-well all is missed. It’s all about presence and being around , even if each stayed behind that wall of ‘being busy’. And memories, what of them? It’s a mixed bag which began filling right from the time of conception and is now fully loaded over the years? It can’t have been all good and goodly, now can it?
Ah but a mother’s heart and her bursting dam of feelings? Can these be restrained? Umm. What the heck- I reprimand my kinda wet pillow, “You ought a be ashamed of yourself-going wet and all. He has surged forward for a greater purpose and will attain what he dreams of.”
And my dreams? A mother’s visions? What of them? Well they have synced with his. Isn’t that what all birth-givers do?