The season of 'fall'
The autumn of 2018 heralded a new season in my life. The nature's cycle was mirroring my own life cycle. As the autumn leaves were breaking away from their branches, the baby of the house leaves the nest. It was my ‘fall’…
It’s been a month since the little birdie ‘happily’ flew away and the mommy has been moping in her nest, sometimes giving a pat to herself for his confident solo flight, or despairing about the enormous error she committed by giving him less number of undies!
Between tears and beers, I have been looking at his old pictures like a love-sick fool, awaiting his phone calls like his first girlfriend and desperately looking for signs that he also misses me.
While I have been trying to keeping myself overly occupied to fill the hole and keeping a brave face, I look for that ‘peace of mind’, by imagining myself as ‘Sister Shivani’ and give myself a daily pep talk. The kids go off to college, it is a rite of passage - how do I please cross this long painful passage? Every child only starts college once and such moments are rare – but how can this moment be special as he takes his first step away from me? Every mother goes through it - but how do they survive this - the deafening silence, an empty room, less noise, less laundry, less demands for favourite foods, and an avalanche of feelings.
My histamines are on an overdrive, breaking out in a dance of hives and rashes, the tears are like the Indian monsoons, totally unpredictable & refusing to abet, sleep is impossible and the dreams embarrassing.
While the ‘fatherly love' is scouring the internet to book tickets for next 6 months, (the son may have already planned vacations with friends), my 3am mind flashes images of all kinds - cooking misadventures (I still have them, but that’s besides the point), bunked classes (of course we did it and I was the champion of initiating mass bunks, but its uncool now), Gay clubs, bars, horse racing (nani is scandalized), my depressed lonely baby (that’s my overly sacred, hyperactive imagination).
Advise has been pouring from all corners and it catches me cross questioning myself every time I speak to him. Don’t be a nag – is checking whether he reached the laundry room finally, nagging? Be prepared for random phone calls and then quick hang ups – does that mean I cannot send him a stinker message if he is on a repeat mode with this? Don’t project your angst. They have enough on their minds with new surroundings – can I say ‘I miss you’ or does that add to his stress?
A momentous 30 days later, the hives scared me enough to run to my GP and when he asked in his kind gentle tone, “Mrs. Garg, has anything stressful happened recently?” I could only stare blankly at him.
How do I express how I am struggling under this weight of change? My heart is simultaneously so full and yet shattered into a thousand pieces.
How do I tell him that I yearn to hold him one more time, rock my new-born baby, smell his sweetness, and lose an entire day with him in my arms. I want to see that toothless kindergarten grin and the tears that he shamelessly shed on the first day of his playschool, which he managed to hide this time when I left him. How can I tell him that I cannot seem to make my heart understand what my mind knows?
I just took the prescribed anti-allergies and walked out…knowing there is no medicine in the world for this….